


Glen Road

by bookjunkiecat



Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Mystery, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 69,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8784310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat
Summary: This is a multi-chapter fiction about our dear old Bob-Whites. It starts out with a mention of the day Trixie and Honey met, jumps forward five years, then jumps forward eight years to the present day. There are traditional and original pairings, loves lost and regained, and all new loves. This is not predominantly a love-story, but there is a lot of love in it, and one of those relationships/possible relationships is Trixie and Regan.Naturally there is a mystery, and plenty of friendship, horse-back riding, picnics, misunderstandings, lost tempers, crafts, teasing and all sorts of fun. This is an on-going work that I will be completing, and if it is successful and I have enough material, I might continue.This is only the second fan-fiction that I have published, and I am still learning how the whole AO3 thing works, so hopefully my tags, warnings, formatting, etc. isn't too bad. I welcome comments, reviews and advice!





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't like non-traditional pairings, then you may hate this. This is NOT a Trixie/Jim story. Not all of it is canon and I haven't read all of the books, so there may be some divergence from the stories. I did my best to pay homage to one of my favorite series, and I hope everyone enjoys it.

**Prelude**

_Manor House_

_Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, New York_

_2003_

          Stepping out of the stables into the bright sunlight of a hot June day, Liam Regan looked around him in bemusement. He wondered if this place would ever seem like home, if he would adjust to living in the country for the first time in his life. With a pang of worry he wondered if he was old enough for this job. True, he was twenty-one, and he had been on his own for almost four years, and he knew horses; knew them and loved them, but this would be the first time he ever ran his own stables.

          Hopefully, Matthew Wheeler wouldn’t decide he had made a huge mistake. This was only his third day at the Manor House, and despite the fact that the staff was still getting settled in, and his own rooms over the garage weren’t yet fully furnished, this was the nicest place he had ever lived, aside from the Henderson’s. Today was the day the family arrived, well, just the Wheeler’s teenage daughter, Madeleine, who went by the nickname Honey. Billionaire tech industrialist Matthew Wheeler and his socialite wife, Madeleine, were still in the city and not expected for several days. Liam was glad for a few days to get everything in perfect condition before his boss arrived.

          “Might as well enjoy it while you can,” he muttered to himself, turning back toward the stables. He had a lot to do before the horses arrived. The stables were nicely appointed, but he wanted everything just so. He intended to show his boss from the beginning that he _was_ cut out for this job; for a kid like him, this was the pinnacle.

          As he unpacked bridles and untangled reins, he reflected on how quickly his life had changed.

         

          He’d been born in the city, raised in a small apartment in Queens by his mom, a widow with health problems and no family. His older sister, Tessie, ten years his senior, sometimes seemed more like a mom to him than his own. Trying to help make ends meet, she had started working as soon as she was sixteen, and sometimes both Tessie and his mom were at work, leaving him alone, instructed to call on an elderly neighbor in the event of trouble. Even as a little kid, Liam had known not to call 911; CPS would take him away from his mom if they found out he was home alone. When he was seven, his world changed, suddenly his mom and Tessie spent hours in tense conversation, and occasionally had screaming matches that ended in slammed doors and crying.

          Fearful, but too young to know what was going on, Liam was devastated when Tessie disappeared. He asked his mom where she had gone, but she just started crying and told him Tessie wasn’t coming back. For a while everything was normal, but it was like with Tessie gone, his mom just gave up trying. She started sleeping more and more, taking naps as if they were unavoidable.

          Soon she missed too many shifts at work, and inevitably her boss fired her. Instead of finding another job, she spent all her time on the couch, watching TV until it was disconnected, then she disappeared into the bedroom for days on end. A childhood of keeping closed-mouth about his home life kept him from letting anyone at school know what was going on. One day, the lights were turned off, but after a few days, when he came back from school, he noticed the TV and microwave were gone but the lights were back on.

          It went on like that for a few months, his home slowly disappearing from under him, the basics of life becoming more of a luxury, while his mom got thinner and more distant.

          A few months after his eight birthday, his mom died, her health and her bank account equally spent from her long battle with cancer. At eight going on nine, he wasn’t an ideal candidate for adoption, he ended up in the foster care system, and at first he was placed in an emergency Child Welfare home, but soon enough Liam was sent to the first of many foster families, and contact with Tessie seemed as rare a hope as finding a diamond in the streets.

          With his red hair and quick temper, he had often gotten into scraps, at school and with kids in the neighborhood, but after losing his mom and being separated from his sister, the fear, loneliness and heartache acted like fuel to the fire of his testy Irish temperament. He bounced from foster family to group home to yet more foster families, finally landing with the Hendersons; Maureen and Jim were a childless couple in their forties, who had decided against adoption, but wanted to care for a child. Big-hearted Maureen was the one who felt a connection with the truculent eleven year old, and convinced Jim they should open their home to him.

          He lived for three years with the Hendersons, who took him to a counselor to deal with his rage issues, and they were the ones who introduced him to horses. Horse therapy had started out as a way to help him control his temper, but he fell in love. Soon he was having daily riding lessons, begging to be allowed to spend his after-school hours helping out at the stables. Life would have been pretty perfect if only he could have had Tessie with him. But his sister had disappeared into the city, and he knew she would never find him now that mom was dead, someone else lived in their apartment, and he had moved so many, many times.

          When Liam was fourteen going on fifteen, Jim Henderson had been offered a promotion, which meant moving to San Francisco. Obviously Liam couldn’t go with them, they had never talked about adoption, and he was too proud to admit he considered them family. He was returned to the system and went through seven foster homes in two years, finally running away when he was seventeen.

          He spent a few months living on the streets, trying to avoid trouble and the law, but too many close calls with police and truant officers convinced him to get out of the city. He heard about the racing stables in Saratoga and went looking for work. Stinson Stables was a refuge for him, he got to work with horses all day, training, riding, cleaning up after them, and learning ever more about them. Passing himself off as eighteen year old Bill Henderson, he relaxed, finally feeling comfortable. Within no time he had struck up a romance with Stinson’s teenage daughter, Joan, and he confessed his age, his real name and his runaway status to her. Despite the lies, he was feeling hopeful that he had finally found a place he could belong.

          But that dream was shattered when he was accused of drugging Stinson’s prime racing thoroughbred, Gadfly, before a big race. Without a second thought, Liam fled in the night, and returned to the city, hoping to lose himself among the millions of people.

          Since he was over eighteen by then, he resumed his real identity, and got a job as a stable hand with Park Avenue Stables, grooming horses for the moneyed masses and mucking out stables. It wasn’t a dream job, some of the wealthy families who stabled their horses there were frankly spoiled and rude, and he couldn’t believe how unappreciative most of the kids were at their amazing fortune. But he stuck around, hoping he could stay in one place and find his sister.

          He didn’t the money to go to a detective, but he searched online, to no avail. Tessie Regan might as well not have existed.

          Then a month ago he had been approached by Matthew Wheeler. Wheeler was a relatively young man, perhaps in his early to mid-forties, and he had grown up well off, but made a fortune by investing in and innovating technology. He was tall, red-haired and hot tempered, with a love of horses that matched his own, and Liam Regan felt a kinship to the man, despite the gap in their ages and lifestyles. Mrs. Wheeler was another matter, a rather cold, distant woman, who spent little time in the saddle; her milieu was the opera, charity luncheons, galas at the Met and yachting parties; he had seen her elegantly dressed and perfectly coiffed picture countless times in the society pages.

          They had a daughter, a quiet and terribly shy girl named Honey, who could hardly say boo to a goose, but who was a natural horsewoman. She had been riding since she was quite young, he knew, and she was more natural and unselfconscious when in the saddle. He had accompanied her a few times when she arrived alone to ride. She was only about seven years younger than him, and her love of horses was a bond between them; he felt comfortable enough with her for some gentle teasing, and she opened up a little bit about herself. He caught on quickly that she was lonely, poor kid, and had spent most of her time at an exclusive boarding school in upstate New York, or at camp or abroad during the summers.

          Unlike most of the snobby kids he met at the stables, he felt sorry for her. She was clearly miserable, and there was something frail and sad about her, that made you think she was sick, even though she was strong enough to handle a full-grown, high-spirited horse. Overall, he liked her, and was sorry she got shuffled around from boarding school, to the Hamptons, to camp, and occasionally into the city, rarely at the same time as her parents.

          Apparently she liked him too, as Wheeler made it clear that while his boss at the stables recommended him whole-heartedly, it was his daughter’s word that held the most weight. “I’ve observed you with horses and I know how good you are, and Harry gave you a glowing report. But my girl raves about you, she says you’re easy to talk to. We’re going to be making some changes in her life, and I want you to be a part of that. I’ve bought a house in Westchester County, in a little town called Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, I’m staffing it so she can live there full time. I’d like to stable our horses there, and I want you to run the stables.”

          It was honestly like a dream come true, but like all dreams, there was an element of suspense, waiting for it to turn to a nightmare. Any day now his past could catch up with him and he would find himself out of a job and possibly facing criminal charges. Or Matthew Wheeler would second-guess hiring a kid who never finished high school to run his stables. The most likely scenario, Liam fears, will be for him to lose his temper and wreck the whole deal.

          So far it had proved better than he could have expected. He was given an advance, to buy his riding things and personal effects, and arrangements had been made so he could travel down with the country house staff a few days before Miss Honey arrived. _He_ was the one who got to arrange the stables and tack room and his office the way he wanted. Aside from his room at the Henderson’s, and the occasional boarding situation, he had never had a room of his own, now he had a whole apartment. He wondered when it would feel like home.

          His rooms above the garage were spacious, two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, dining nook and bathroom. They had been cleaned top to bottom, as the house had been vacant for many years, and they were freshly painted the colors he had chosen, when consulted by the formidable Ms. Trask, an almost frighteningly efficient woman in her late thirties who had formerly been a school teacher, and whom the Wheelers had hired to be Miss Honey’s “governess” and run the estate. He could already tell she was going to rule the whole place with ease, she was just that kind of person.

          Basic furniture and kitchenware had been provided, and a few more pieces of furniture, as well as a television, were due to be delivered, but for now his new abode was about as plush as any place he had ever lived. What really excited him, however, were the stables. He had personally cleaned the stalls out, and painted the office and arranged his desk, filing cabinets and office supplies, and he now surveyed his domain with pride. Someone was scheduled to paint the outside of the stables, as well as the garage and other outbuildings, since they had been somewhat neglected, the house receiving the majority of the upkeep over the years. But for now the interior of the stables were ready for the horses which were due to arrive any time now.

          A few sweaty hours later he had gotten the horses settled and was in the paddock grooming his especial favorite, a big hard-headed black gelding named Jupiter. Jupe had a hard mouth and a skittish temperament, but Liam felt an affinity for the horse, who could be affectionate when treated properly. He glanced up and saw his boss’s daughter in the driveway, talking to a curly haired girl; looked like she had already made a friend. Several minutes later, as he was currying Jupe’s glossy black coat, Ms. Trask called out to him. He glanced up; the estate manager approached, holding the hand of a grubby, cherub faced little boy with unruly blonde curls. The girl he had seen earlier was at her side, her wide blue eyes fixed on Jupiter with a look that he recognized; she was horse-mad.

          “Good morning, Regan. This young lady is Miss Trixie Belden. Will you saddle a couple of horses, so she and Honey can explore?” She smiled at the girl, “Have fun and don’t worry about Bobby. I’ll let him wade in the stock tank until you come back.”

          “Thanks,” said Trixie, who was staring entranced at Jupiter. As Ms. Trask and Bobby departed, she moved closer, patting Jupiter’s neck. “Oh, you beautiful, beautiful boy,” She crooned, sending Jupiter in search of sugar that might be hiding in her shirt pocket. She stroked his neck, scratching under his flowing mane, “I haven’t any treats for you today, but next time I’ll bring you some nice crunchy carrots from our garden. Wouldn’t you like that?”

          Regan smiled, here was a clear lover of horses. She was gentle and didn’t make any sudden movements, which might have startled a high-strung horse like Jupe.

          “Old Jupe would like that for sure, Miss,” he told her in approval. “Already I can see he likes you, and he doesn’t like everybody.”

          The girl looked up at him with a shining face, “I _love_ him! Oh, I just love horses! Please, Mr. Regan, could I ride him?”

          He hesitated to say yes, not having seen her in the saddle before; these horses, much though he loved them, where not his. His boss had paid a lot of money for these thoroughbreds, and he couldn’t promise her a ride on Jupiter until he had seen her handle a horse. Jupiter was a force to be reckoned with. “Well…” he said slowly, “that depends. Jupiter has a strong mouth and not everyone can handle him. Usually he only obeys Mr. Wheeler and me. Miss Honey is an excellent rider, but she just doesn’t have enough strength in her wrists. You look like you might be a little more athletic…have you done much riding?”

          Her face told him the answer before she spoke, “I’ve never been on a horse,” she admitted. “But I just know I can handle him, Mr. Regan. I _know_ I can.”

          Regan couldn’t help but laugh, “I admire your guts, kid, but Jupiter is too much horse for a beginner…he’d be out of the paddock and down the road before you could say ‘Whoa!’” He gave the big horse an affectionate slap on the neck. “He wouldn’t stop until you hit the New York traffic; that is, if you stayed on that long.”

          She was clearly disappointed, he thought he saw tears in her eyes; but she was plucky too, she swallowed her disappointment and begged meekly, “But when I learn, you _will_ let me ride him, won’t you, Mr. Regan? Oh, _please_!”

          “When the day comes and I think you’re ready, I’ll let you ride him. And that’s a promise. For now, let’s start you off with Mrs. Wheeler’s mount, she’s a sweet little mare named Lady, and you couldn’t ask for a better horse to learn to ride on.”

          He led her into his domain, the sweet smelling stable, redolent of hay and horses, leather and saddle soap. Slipping a halter over Lady’s head, he handed the reins of the dainty, dapple gray mare to Trixie, promising he would be right back. When he returned, he found her, face buried in Lady’s mane, whispering sweet nothings to the horse. She looked up at him, blue eyes bright in her freckled face. He thought he had never seen anyone with such a friendly, open smile. “Please don’t call me Miss, Mr. Regan. My name’s Trixie.”

          “Okay, Trixie,” he said, showing her how to gather the reins, “Just call me Regan.” He saddled Lady and explained about tightening the cinch after she was mounted. He led Lady into the yard and adjusted the stirrups, holding one iron for her to mount. After a few tries she was in the saddle and beaming ear to ear. He couldn’t help but grin, knowing how she felt.

           But he had a job to do; he had to make sure these kids were safe and responsible riders. “Always keep your heels down, if you get thrown, you want your feet to come free of the stirrups…otherwise you’ll get dragged.” He led them to a partially fenced in field, and set about instructing her on the proper way to sit a horse. Just then, Honey appeared, dressed to the nines in her snow-white Ralph Lauren riding togs and glossy Parlanti riding boots.

          “Here you are, Miss Honey, why don’t you lead them around while I saddle Strawberry for you.” He winked at Trixie who was so excited she almost vibrated in the saddle, “Otherwise your friend is going to get too frisky.” When he returned a few minutes later, leading Strawberry, he found Trixie in the saddle, but with grass stains on her shirt. He gave her a knowing smile, “So, you had your first fall already, huh?”

          She nodded, clearly embarrassed. Regan suggested that they take it easy, offering a lesson on posting the following day. She was disappointed, but reluctantly agreed, and the girls left, guiding the horses on a gentle walk around the willow-bordered lake. He watched them go and saw that she was sitting confidently in the saddle, there was no reason to worry, they had a natural-born rider on their hands. He had a feeling he would be seeing a lot of Trixie Belden.


	2. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an important part of the story, our girl grows a great deal, and this lays the foundation for future chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't Chapter Two, it's the Interlude, but I can't figure out a way to post that doesn't list it as a chapter. Oh well.

**Interlude**

_Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson_

_2008_

_April_

          Wiping tears from her freckled cheeks, seventeen year old Trixie Belden slipped out of the kitchen door of her home, Crabapple Farm, and took a shaky breath. Moms and Daddy had been so disappointed…she almost couldn’t bear to think about how Moms had cried and Daddy had looked so let down. They were such wonderful parents- why look how they were letting her run up to the Manor House, even though she was grounded- and she felt _sooo_ guilty to have upset them like this.

          Hurrying along the well-worn path that led from Crabapple Farm around the Wheeler’s lake and up the hill to the Manor House, Trixie tried to compose herself. With a house the size of the Wheeler’s, you were almost guaranteed to run into at least two people on your way through, and she just wanted to get Honey alone in her room and tell her everything, but she refused to meet any of the staff- or even worse, the family- all red eyed and awash with tears. Arriving slightly out of breath…gosh, when did she _ever_ run out of breath going up the hill, she must be out of shape, Trixie fixed a smile on her face and slipped through the kitchen door.

          Since that June day nearly five years ago, when she had first met Honey Wheeler, and made her first real best friend, Trixie and her brothers had been welcomed at the Manor House and treated like members of the family. She called out a greeting to Cook, who was in the pantry, and saw with thankfulness the back of Ms. Trask as she went into the library. Ms. Trask was far too observant, and while she would never pry, Trixie didn’t want to have to explain her obvious distress. She tapped lightly on Honey’s door, and stuck her head in when her friend bid her to enter.

          Honey was in yoga pants and a tank top, cross legged on her bed, tapping away at her laptop and she looked up in surprise at seeing her friend in the doorway at eight o’clock at night. “Trix!” she exclaimed, “What are you doing up here this late?”

          Trixie closed the door and burst into tears. She stumbled over the rug and all but fell onto Honey’s bed. Honey dropped her laptop and hovered over her friend, patting her back and fussing, “Oh, Trixie, what is it?”

          After a few minutes Trixie calmed down and buried her wet face in Honey’s lap. “Not going,” she mumbled.

          “What did you say?”

          She rolled onto her side and avoided Honey’s worried gaze. “I’m in so much trouble, Honey. I don’t have enough credits to graduate next month! And of course, I didn’t get accepted to Penn. _And_ Moms and Daddy have grounded me, which isn’t surprising, but it totally sucks.”

          Honey was clearly shocked, she gasped and stared at Trixie in dismay, “Oh Trix…I knew you were having trouble with your grades, but-” She was unable to finish her sentence, even her legendary tact deserting her.

          “You know I’ve always struggled with math and English, and while my English grades aren’t too bad, Algebra II really kicked my ass. My grade in Chem isn’t much better. Despite the extra tutoring sessions and make up work, I did awful on the state assessments…I’m not in a good enough position to walk with our class. And I heard from Penn State, I’m not eligible to enroll with my current stats.” Trixie blinked and tears spilled over. Hastily, she wiped her face on her t-shirt. “Mr. Stratton met with me and Moms and Daddy after school today. If I get decent scores when I retake the tests, and if I pass summer school, I’ll graduate. But I won’t get to be part of our graduating ceremonies.”

          She thought Honey was taking it worse than she had. “After all our time together in school, not to get to accept our diplomas together! Oh, Trixie, that blows!”

          Trixie summoned up a watery smile, “It isn’t like we would be walking together, or even sitting together…I mean, we’re at opposite ends of the alphabet!” She sighed, “But it does totally suck. I’m so mad and so embarrassed, not to be able to graduate with all the rest of you. I’m such a dumbass.”

          Honey was hotly indignant, “You’re not any such thing! You run yourself down, but you’re totally smart, Trixie! You just have trouble in school. Why, when we’re solving one of our mysteries, you _always_ see the answers even when the rest of us are in the dark!” 

          Trixie hugged her and for a minute she rested her head on Honey’s shoulder and let herself be comforted from this blow. After a minute she sat back and picked at the blanket, “I-I guess maybe you’re right, Honey. It’s just-it’s been a tough year anyway, and then the thing with Jim…” her voice trailed off and they both blushed uncomfortably.

          A lot of factors contributed to the break-up between Trixie, and Honey’s older, adopted brother, Jim Frayne. Jim had been Trixie’s beau ideal for years, and when she was fifteen and her parents allowed her to start dating, Jim was waiting. There was great delight in finally being able to call him her boyfriend, to go on dates and have late night phone conversations, but for all the good moments there were almost as many bad.

          Jim was Mr. Honorable. He would rather bend over backwards to do the right thing than tarnish his sense of right and wrong. Unfortunately, his ideas of right and wrong didn’t always coincide with Trixie’s. There were plenty of times when she had gotten the BWGs (their secret club, the Bob-Whites of the Glen, of which she and Jim were co-presidents) in and out of hair-raising adventures, all while solving mysteries. Jim was always the voice of reason, and he and Trix didn’t see eye to eye on everything. It hadn’t been as big a deal when they were just friends and club-mates. But once they were in a relationship, it seemed like his attitude got stiffer and more standoffish, and he not only tried to tell her what to do, but he backed farther and farther away from a physical relationship.

          Trixie Belden hadn’t been raised to be the type of girl who took sex lightly, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t _planned_ on going all the way, but she had hormones for Pete’s sake, didn’t Jim? But always, Jim would barely kiss her before he was pulling back, putting distance between them. Most of the time, he was away at college, and they had to content themselves with phone calls and emails and the occasional weekend visit, when all the BWGs were together, and there wasn’t much alone time. But they had holidays.

          Like last Winter Break. A few days before Christmas he took her to White Plains for dinner and a movie, then took the longer county roads on the way home. They went to Killifish Point, the spot which during the day was a popular site for people seeking pleasure on the river, and which during the dark evenings was popular with young people seeking privacy for a different kind of pleasure. While they at first admired the stars shining down on the Hudson River, and the lights of the town twinkling below the bluff, that wasn’t the reason anyone parked a car there after dark. Hell, after dating for a year and a half, it didn’t seem unreasonable for her to unbuckle, slide over the bench seat of Jim’s pick-up truck and start kissing her boyfriend.

          Maybe it was the moonlight, or the warm, cozy confines of the truck, with Christmas music softly playing on the radio, but Jim had responded warmly, and Trixie had been feeling excited and hopeful that he was finally going to act like a normal teenage boy. She had deepened the kiss and put her hand on his thigh, and for a minute she could feel his body melt and curve to envelope her in his embrace. But then he stiffened and moved away, capturing her wrists gently in his grasp, as he drew in a deep breath and held himself away from her, “We should stop, Trix.”

          “Why?” she had cried, frustrated and hurt. Tears pricked her eyelids and she gulped, wondering what was wrong with her? Why her nineteen year old boyfriend found it so easy to push her away from him. Didn’t he want her?

          “It wouldn’t be right-“

          She interrupted him, “Don’t you ever do the wrong thing Jim? D’you ever do something dangerous?”  
          She could feel his infamous redhead’s temper mount, but he made an obvious effort to control himself. “Trixie, I’m trying to be the _responsible_ one here. One of us has to keep a cool head, too much could happen if we-if we… let things get out of control. Besides, your parents wouldn’t like it—“

          “What about what I’d like, Jim? Don’t you give a damn about that? Or only about what’s “right”? Don’t you _ever_ get tired of being responsible and honorable?” Years of frustration at being policed by Jim, of having her impulsiveness checked by his cautious nature spilled out of her, and she realized she was nearly shouting.

          The night ended poorly, both of them left sullen and sour, too many hurtful things spoken, and too many things that should have been said left unspoken. Jim drove her home but drove off without walking her to the door.

          Christmas had been miserable, both of them too proud to apologize, or admit they were in the wrong. Even tactful Honey was unable to bring them together. They skirted one another at festivities, and parted at the end of break without any accord.

          Jim called her a few weeks later, falsely cheerful and trying to pretend that their fight had never happened. Trixie was cold and uncooperative, unwilling to back down. She didn’t care if they never got any more intimate than a chaste goodnight kiss; but she didn’t like him making that decision without her. And too, she was hurt at how coldly Jim could treat her; it was like he was capable of turning his emotions on and off. She hung up on him and when he called back, she let his call go to voice mail. He, sounding oh-so-reasonable, told her she was being childish and encouraged her to think instead of act on her emotions. It was the wrong thing to say. Without stopping to think, she called him back and broke up.

          That was in January. Now it was late April and she was done crying and wishing she hadn’t been so hard-headed, but Trixie could be stubborn. She was not going to be the one to admit she might have been hasty. They hadn’t seen one another since. She wondered if he was coming home for the summer.

          “No,” Honey answered now in response to Trixie’s question, “He’s volunteering with a program in Arizona, it takes at-risk youth and teaches them survival skills and team-building in the wilderness.” Trixie couldn’t help but smile, it sounded like her friend was reciting the mission statement from a website. “Jim won’t be home until a week or so before fall semester starts.”

          “That’s perfect for Jim,” Trixie said softly, “It’ll really help him when he builds his school.” Jim was an orphan, who, after his mother had died, had been raised by his abusive step-father, Jonesy. When he was fifteen, he ran away from Jonesy and hid in the derelict mansion on the hill above the Manor House and Crabapple Farm, called Ten Acres, where his great-uncle had lived. That was where Trixie and Honey met him that first week of their budding friendship.

          Despite his initial distrust, Jim had soon become friends with the girls, and he admitted to them his closely-held dream of one day running a school for orphaned and abandoned boys, teaching them the skills to survive in the woods, to farm and hunt and forage, the way his father had taught him. That dream was as much a part of Jim’s personality as his honor and his temper.

          Trixie and Jim might not be a couple any longer, and only time would tell if their friendship was permanently damaged, but she was still proud of him and knew he would make his dream a reality. He had a long road ahead of him, since he was planning on pursuing two degrees, and also wanted to get practical experience. She hadn’t known that he was thinking of going to a sort of survival school though; of course, they hadn’t spoken in months; they were no longer as close as they had been for years. At one time she had thought Jim was the most wonderful boy in the world. Now she tried not to think of him…

          She looked up, realizing she had been caught up in her daydreams. Honey was biting her lip and looking uncomfortable. Of course, they were best friends and club-mates, and Jim was Honey’s brother, so it had been awkward at times for the girls to maintain their usual close relationship, especially in the early days after the break-up, when Trixie had little good to say about Jim.

          “What? What is it?” she asked with a feeling of dread, seeing that her friend had something on her mind. In her mind she finished her sentence, _What now?_ It felt like she was taking one blow after another.

          “Jim’s… dating. A girl. From his dorm.” Honey was stilted, it was clear she worried about upsetting Trixie any further. Trixie felt a pang in her chest. Of course he was dating. He was single. And Jim was very handsome; more importantly, he was kind, intelligent, wonderful. She suppressed tears, she was done crying over Jim. Besides, it had been her decision to break it off.

          “Oh.”

          Honey fiddled with the hem of her top, avoided Trixie’s eyes, and finally changed the subject. “Oh, Trix! What about your birthday party? It’s just three days away.”

          “Moms and Daddy didn’t say, but I’m preeeetty sure a party is out of the question. I’m only allowed to leave the house to go to school, the library, and to exercise the horses. At least they left me that,” she finished a trifle morosely.

          “Oh noooo, and we had such a nice day planned. I guess there’s nothing we can do to change their minds?”

          “No. Ugh, it’s going to be like prison! School, tutoring, home…I guess exercising the horses is like my yard time.” Trixie’s natural high spirits rose and she giggled. “At least I get Moms yummy cooking and not prison slop.”

          Honey gamely joined in, “And you don’t have to wear stripes!”

          They giggled together, before Trixie sobered. “I’d better get back, they said I could come up for a few minutes, and it’s been nearly fifteen. No reason to make them any madder.”

          Honey stood up and hugged her, “I’ll see you on the bus in the morning, ‘k?”

          “Goodnight, Honey,” Trixie called softly from the doorway, slipping out into the hall. She hurried out of the house and down the hill to Crabapple Farm, which looked cozy in the dark, its homey lights shining. She felt a pang of love for her home and family, and resolved to accept her fate with good grace. Even if it meant she wouldn’t get to celebrate her eighteenth birthday.

 

******

 

_May_

          “Gosh, I’m glad your parents let us come over,” Honey said, three days later, as Trixie greeted her at the door. “It’d be _too_ depressing not to get to celebrate you turning eighteen!”

          “Oh, Trix,” Pretty Diana Lynch, their friend and fellow Bob-White, said, following Honey into the kitchen of Crabapple Farm, “You look cute…I haven’t seen you dressed up in forever.”

          For years Trixie had been an incorrigible tomboy, only donning dresses when her mother insisted, preferring jeans and sneakers, and wearing her curly, sandy-blonde hair short. But she had grown up a lot, and had been wearing her hair longer for years, also, she liked to dress up more now, and even wore make up on occasion. Tonight was no exception; she was wearing a green slip dress, light makeup and had flat ironed her hair, which fell just past her shoulders. She hugged her friends happily, “I’m so happy to see you two, I was _so_ bummed when I thought I wasn’t gonna to get to celebrate at all. But then Moms said she was making a special dinner, and to invite you two.”

          Honey smiled, “We wouldn’t have missed it for anything! Here,” she handed Trixie a large, flat, prettily wrapped box, with a froth of multi-colored ribbons on top, “This is from me.”

          Di hugged her in turn, and put a gift bag in her hands, so much blue and purple tissue paper foamed from the open bag that there almost wasn’t room to reach the handles. “This is from me, and this is from the twins,” she added, putting a pink envelope in Trixie’s hands. “They wanted to say thank you for helping them with their history project. You know what a dummy I am when it comes to dates!” She giggled and brushed her black bangs out of her gorgeous violet eyes; Di was notoriously bad at remembering dates and the names of historical events. Her eight year old twin sisters were better scholars, but still needed help with their schoolwork; Trixie had offered to lend a hand when she heard what their third grade history teacher, Mrs. Griffin, had assigned.

          Trixie laughed, “Tell Delilah and Daisy thanks, and it was no trouble. I love the local legends, helping them with Sleepyside’s history was fun!” She led her friends into the living room, where her parents and her ten year old brother, Bobby, were being held spellbound by Aunt Alicia. Aunt Alicia was actually Trixie’s great-aunt, and she was old as the hills, terribly old-fashioned and lonely. She tended to hold people hostage with her conversation when she found an opportunity to speak. Just now she was grumbling about politics, and Peter Belden, Trixie’s handsome, banker father, was trying to politely steer the conversation around to lighter topics, but was defeated by Alicia’s determination to speak her piece.

          “And of course, young people today couldn’t care a fig for who their president is! You can’t tell _me_ more than five percent of ‘em vote. And after all the struggles women had to get the right. I suppose you three misses aren’t going to vote this November, are you?” She fixed a cold and accusing eye on the girls, who had just entered the room.

          Trixie smiled sweetly, “Why yes, Aunt Alicia, as a matter of fact, I am.”

          “I suppose you’re going to vote for that Barack Obama?” Without waiting for an answer, she went on, “McCain, that’s the one to vote for. A military hero, _and_ he’s got a woman running mate. About time we had a female in power.”

          “Well tonight there’s one female in power; the birthday girl,” Peter smiled fondly at his daughter. “Helen, could you ever have believed that our chubby little baby would one day be _eighteen_?”

          Helen Belden, affectionately known as Moms, smiled at their daughter, her lovely face nearly unlined beneath blonde hair which she was just beginning to need to have touched up to cover grays. “I suspected this day might come. What I’m having a hard time believing is that our little tomboy is this lovely young lady.”

          Trixie’s face burned, she hated when her parents got sappy, especially in front of her friends, “Moms!”

          Her father hugged her with one arm, smiling down at Trixie’s flushed face, “I always knew that one day my princess would be as lovely a woman as her mother.”

          “I’ll never be as beautiful as Moms,” Trixie protested, “But thank you, Daddy.” She cleared her throat and blinked back tears, “Can I open my presents now? I’m dying to know what Honey and Di brought me!”    

          “Dinner first,” her mother instructed, “then cake and ice cream, and then you can open your presents.” She laughed, “You’ve always been impatient, ever since you were a little girl, I’m glad to see some things haven’t changed!”

 

******

 

 Nearly two hours later, they all leaned back from the table, groaning. “Moms, dinner was delicious, but I ate too much cake.” Trixie beamed at her mother, “You make the best cakes…well, really you make the best everything!”

          Di and Honey chorused agreement, and stood up to start clearing the table, shooing Mrs. Belden’s protest aside. “You made us this super dinner, Mrs. B,” Honey said, “the least we can do is clear up.” Efficiently, the two girls cleared the table and stacked plates, getting ready to scrape and rinse the plates, and then load the dishwasher, an anniversary surprise from Peter to Helen last year, when they renovated the old farmhouse kitchen. Mart had groaned that it wasn’t fair of their dad to get a dishwasher after he and Brian were already off at college. But secretly the Belden siblings were pleased; not only did it mean less work for them, but it would be easier on Moms with the eldest boys away at college, and soon to be just Bobby at home to help with chores.

          Bobby took another piece of cake (his third) and asked to be excused; permission was granted, dependent on his returning downstairs when gifts were opened. Aunt Alicia fell asleep in Mr. Belden’s recliner, and Peter and Helen took the opportunity to step outside and spend a few minutes alone, while Trixie conference called Brian and Mart. They were both away at college, although different campuses, and had been unable to return home on a Thursday during finals. The boys wished their sister a happy birthday, and spent a few minutes wisecracking, and asking after their parents and Bobby, before the talk turned a little serious.

          “Dad told us about school,” twenty-one year old Brian said, his deep voice serious. “I know you’re a better student than you think, Trix, I hope you’re planning on buckling down this summer and really making an effort next year.”

          Trixie flushed, she hated to be lectured by “Doctor” Brian, he was so good he would have been an unbearable prig if he hadn’t been so wonderful. _Buckling down,_ she snorted to herself, _he sounds like Grandpa Belden._ She knew he just wanted the best for her, and she gritted her teeth and assured him she was already lined up with a tutor, and had promised Moms and Daddy that she wouldn’t earn less than an eighty in any of her classes.

          Mart, at eleven months her senior was often referred to as her Almost Twin, and was too close in age to be anything but a pest most of the time. They squabbled quite fiercely, but he was also one of her staunchest allies when she needed him. Now he said, in an affected British accent, “Pish tosh, dear Beatrix, the fate of the Belden name is in your hands. I demand you accept no lower than an eighty-five!”

          A hot retort was on the tip of her tongue, but then she glanced at her parents, who were coming in the back door, looking happy and relaxed, and she bit her lip. An imp of mischief seized her, and before she could second guess herself she said airily, “Oh, Mart, dear brother, I accept your eighty-five and I raise you a ninety. _I’m_ up for the challenge, are _you_?” She stifled a giggle, knowing that Mart, as smart as he was, had been having some trouble in his first year of college.

          “Say, Trix,” Mart exploded, “ I’m game for it! I hope you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew!”

          “While I’m stuffed from Moms’ yummy dinner and my delicious birthday cake, I think I’ve enough room to swallow a few good grades. Certainly more than you!”

          Brian chuckled, “Watch out, Trixie, remember, Mart’s always had a giant appetite!”

          She laughed merrily, “That’s right, and now he has bitten off more than _he_ can chew!” Satisfied to have had the last line, she hung up and did a little jig. Her family burst out laughing and she looked up to see her parents, Honey and Di all grinning at her. “ _What_ was that about?” Honey asked.

          “Oh, just me betting Mart that I could maintain a better GPA than him next year.”

          Her father looked concerned, “Trixie, I’m not opposed to a little healthy competition, if that will spur you to perform better in school, but don’t treat school too lightly. Your mother and I just want you to do the good work we know you’re capable of.”

          Trixie gave him a quick hug, “Oh, Daddy, I promise I won’t disappoint you this time. Besides, getting the better of Mart Belden will be almost as much of a reward as getting my diploma!”

 

******

 

          Saturday morning, Trixie reluctantly rolled out of bed bright and early, and dressed in sloppy clothes, since she would be spending a few hours helping Moms around the house. She hated dusting and housework, but there was plenty of it waiting for her. She brightened when she picked up her birthday gift from Di, a brand new iPod, which had come with a $50 iTunes gift card. Another gift card, for $30, had been in the card the twins had given her; she had stayed up late last night, downloading songs on her new laptop.

          The laptop was a complete surprise, it had been a gift from her parents, who explained that they wanted her to use it to concentrate on school work in the coming year, and to be able to work on assignments while with her tutor. She knew that with two sons at college, and two kids at home, her parents were a little strapped for cash, and it was a big purchase for them to have made.

          Regardless of the reason, she loved it. She also loved Honey’s gift, which had been two new outfits, extremely nice clothes from a boutique in the city. Normally she and her friends exchanged home-made gifts, or small tokens, but the girls explained that since she was going to be home alone the next year, and eighteen was a milestone birthday, they had wanted to go all out.

          Saddened at the thought of spending a whole year alone in Sleepyside, while all her friends were at college, Trixie trudged downstairs, knocking on Bobby’s door as she passed. She had no one but herself to blame (well, okay, maybe she blamed Jim, a little), but still, it really sucked that she was staying home like a loser, repeating her senior year. All bets with Mart aside, she was going to ace her second chance. Already she was meeting twice a week with her tutor, a studious junior named Seth. She was determined to pass her summer classes with flying colors, and with Seth’s help she would. Her natural ebullience returned and she bounded down the steps, gave her mother a quick kiss and poured herself some juice, “Where’s Daddy?”

          Helen turned from the roast she was putting in the slow cooker, “Your father is outside dismantling the chicken coop-“

          Trixie dropped her Everything bagel back in the bag, “I’m surprised he didn’t wait for me. I’d better go help.” She made a face; she already had enough chores to take care of, but with Brian and Mart gone, this kind of stuff fell on her more and more.

          Helen laughed, “Bobby has it under control, the rascal actually got up early, so he didn’t miss any of the fun of helping. Even Reddy is lending a hand.” Reddy was the Belden’s Irish setter, an incorrigibly untrained dog that never did what he was told. No doubt Daddy had told him to scram, so of course he stuck around.

          Trixie laughed and picked her bagel up, slotting it back in the toaster. “At least Bobby is a lot more “holp” now than he used to be.” Bobby, with the help of speech therapists, no longer jumbled his words and lisped, but for years he was always asking for “holp” when he needed rescuing. It was nice that he was now old enough to actually be of real help when needed. With Brian and Mart away, and just Trixie and Bobby to help with the chores, which included mowing the lawn, caring for the chickens and helping Mrs. Belden with her huge garden, Mr. Belden had decided it was time to get rid of the chickens. They had been sold to Mr. Maypenny, the Wheeler’s gamekeeper, and now Bobby was helping his father tear down the empty coop, a destructive, messy task which delighted his little boy nature.

          “Would you like some eggs, sweetie?”

          “No thanks, Moms, I’ll have some yogurt and granola with my bagel. I wanna get my chores out of the way so I can go up to the stables by noon. Honey and I are going to go for a ride. Poor Regan must be furious! With just the two of us and Di, we aren’t as much help exercising the horses as we used to be.”

          “Don’t you have a study session with Seth?”

          “Not until two; he’s gotta work, and then he’s going to come out here.”

          “Alright dear, but make sure you’re not late to meet him.”

          Trixie promised, then bolted down her breakfast and soon she was moving through the house like a whirlwind, dusting and vacuuming and polishing. Since the boys went to college, and Bobby was old enough to make his own bed and keep his room reasonably neat, she didn’t have as much to do. Finished with the downstairs, she made her bed, and stripped the bedding off of her parent’s bed.

          After putting a load of clothes in the washing machine, she ran out to the garden to pick some vegetables for the soup her mother was making for lunch, then ran nimbly upstairs to clean out the bathroom the Belding siblings shared. “Honestly,” she grumbled to herself, picking up wet towels and scrubbing the toilet and surrounding floor, “I think Bobby is messier than Brian and Mart combined!” She stepped back to admire the now sparkling toilet and tiles, then took the towels and bath rug downstairs to the laundry room off the kitchen. She switched the first load to the dryer, put her parent’s bedding on to wash, and bundled the bathroom stuff in front of the washer, ready for the next load.

          After putting her father’s crumpled newspaper and a bunch of junk mail into the recycling bin in the garage, she stepped into the kitchen to ask Moms if there was anything else she needed. Freed from chores, she hurried upstairs to brush her still straightened hair into a neat ponytail, take a quick rinse in the newly scrubbed shower, then change in to clean jeans, a Sleepyside High School Athletic Club t-shirt leftover from Mart’s days playing baseball, and lace on her favorite sneakers. She grabbed a light hoodie, since the wind was blowing and it was a little cool out still.

          She was in time to have a hasty bowl of soup, and some of Moms’ fresh baked bread for lunch, then she excused herself and dashed up the hill, to arrive at the stables, slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

          Regan, the Wheeler’s handsome, red-headed groom, looked up with a smile when she hurried into the stables. He was cleaning Starlight’s hooves, and he stopped, patting the horse’s rump, when Trixie came in. “Well, well, if it isn’t the birthday girl.” He put his big, freckled hands on his hips and grinned at her, “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to keep growing as you get older.”

          Trixie stuck out her tongue at him, “I’ll have you know I’m now 5’ 5” thank you very much! We can’t all be six foot giants.”

          He threw back his head and laughed, then leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m only 5’ 11” without my boots.”

          She giggled and made a show of crossing her heart, “Your dark secret is safe with me.”

          “What dark secret?” Honey asked, joining them.

          “Why it’s not really a secret, but I _do_ have a surprise,” Regan smiled, as if anticipating their reaction. “When you two first met, Trixie asked to ride Jupiter… I told her someday, when she was a good enough rider, I would let her do it.” Trixie sucked in an excited breath, her face flushing in excitement. Did Regan mean-? “Now, being the impatient Miss Fidget she is, she had her little mishap with trying to ride him while my back was turned.” He levied a stern glance at her, though his lips twitched. Trixie’s face was now flaming. She had tried riding Jupiter a few days after first learning to ride, and the memory of that terrifying dash and how it almost ended in disaster, was still a humiliating one. She had been sure Regan would never forgive her.

          “That day has arrived. I think, Trixie, that you’re ready to handle Jupe.”

          “Oh Regan, d’you mean it? Really?” And at his affirming nod she squealed softly and threw herself in his arms, giving him a boisterous hug. Honey jumped in shared delight, and Trixie turned to hug her, the girls rocking with excitement. Trixie pulled back after a minute and turned and gazed at Regan, her eyes shining like stars, “Oh Regan, oh…” she cleared her throat, feeling ridiculously near tears, “I promise I will be the best, safest, most responsible rider _ever_.”

          “I know you will. I think you’re ready for this. But you do have to be cautious, Trixie, much as I know that goes against the grain for you. Jupiter is used to much heavier riders, and strong though you may be for your size, you’re a lot smaller than me or Jim or Mr. Wheeler.”

          After much cautioning from Regan, and a few minutes riding around the paddock to see how Jupiter responded to his new rider, the girls set off for the Preserve. Honey was on Strawberry and Trixie rode proud and tall on Jupiter. Regan watched them go with a fond smile. He knew the feeling of pride and delight Trixie was experiencing right now, and she had earned it. Five years had turned her into a truly remarkable horsewoman and a hell of a young lady.

 

******

 

_June_

          “I can’t believe you two are already high school graduates,” Trixie groaned, rolling over on the boat dock, and burying her face in her arms, “I’m just a lowly almost graduate, and both of you are going to be college freshmen at University, while I’m stuck at SUNY Westchester Community College.”

          The three girls were sunning themselves on the Wheeler’s boat dock, on the lake that skirted the property between the Manor House and Crabapple Farm. “And you’re both gonna to be gone all summer, having amazing adventures, while I’m stuck here, studying and gardening and taking summer school.”

          “You know, Trix,” Honey said sympathetically, “College just won’t be the same without you!” She brushed her long, honey-colored hair out of her big hazel eyes and squeezed her hands together, “I can’t imagine leaving you behind.”

          “And this summer is going to be awful,” Diana said quietly, “Honey’s going to be a camp counselor and Mommy and Daddy are dragging me off to Europe for the summer with _both_ sets of twins, ugh!…and you’ll be here all alone!” Her violet eyes were luminous with sympathy, “It’s gonna to suck for you!”

          Trixie rolled over and pummeled her friend, “Sc-rew y-ouuuu, Diana Lynch, I won’t have anyone pitying me! I’ll be just fine, thank you! I’m going to work so damn hard that my grades will be brilliant come fall, and I’ll get to do lots of riding since you’ll all be gone, and I’m going to go visit Mrs. Vanderpoel and Mr. Maypenny and swim every day, and after working in Moms’ garden all summer, I’ll have the most amazing tan.” She sat up and pointed her snub nose skyward, feigning hurt.

          Her friends laughed at her indignant attitude, and rushed to assure her that they didn’t pity her at all.

          It was a warm, early June day and one of the last chances the three would have to spend time together before their separate paths took them away from one another. For the first time in five years, all of the Bob-Whites would be scattered for the summer. Dan was in a college co-op program in Maine, Brian was remaining in the city to take summer sessions, and work at an inner-city clinic, while Mart was already off in the Ozarks helping his uncle with some repairs on his cabin, and doing a lot of fishing and hiking.

          Just Trixie would remain; and she was fighting off a sense of loneliness and depression at the prospect of being abandoned, not just for the summer, but for the next year. Everyone else was growing up and moving away, and she was stuck here in Sleepyside, without her friends, forced to delay Penn State, and all because she had let a _boy_ get in her way.

          Tossing her curls, she dismissed the thought of Jim and jumped to her feet. “C’mon, let’s race to the other side of the lake! Last one there buys the winners dinner at Wimpy’s!”

 

******

 

          It _was_ lonely with the girls gone. Growing up two miles out of town, for years the Belden’s had been isolated from neighbors, and Trixie had had only her brothers for playmates. The summer she was thirteen, both Brian and Mart had gone to camp, and it was just Trixie, with five year old Bobby more of a responsibility than any company. But that was also the summer that the Wheelers moved to Sleepyside, and she and Honey met. Then they met Jim, and soon the Wheeler’s had adopted Jim, and Brian and Mart came home, and they had formed the Bob-Whites, and before too long they had added Di and Dan, and she was hardly ever alone.

          Now they were all gone, scattered, and even Bobby was too busy for her. She was grateful that she had the use of Brian’s beloved but junky Nissan while he was at school, since he hated to drive in the city; and grateful too that her parents allowed her some leeway on going to town. Aside from the kids in her summer classes, she didn’t really see anyone her own age. Her tutor, Seth, was a cranky and serious nerd of the first degree, and he made it clear he had no desire to spend time with her outside of their study sessions.

         

******

 

_July_

          Mrs. Belden stood and wiped her forehead with the back of her gardening glove, beneath her straw hat her face was red and perspiring, “My goodness but it’s hot today!” She surveyed the garden, “We’ve gotten a lot accomplished today, Trixie, and I couldn’t have done it without your help. But now it’s too hot to keep on. Let’s cool off with some lemonade, then you can help me get a nice cool lunch ready for when your father gets home. After that you’re free, go enjoy the Fourth of July celebrations.”

          Trixie stood up thankfully. She was hot, tired and grubby, and a glass of ice cold lemonade followed by a cold shower sounded like heaven.

          They gathered their gardening implements and put them away in the shed, then hung up their gloves and hats, and kicked off their gardening clogs. Trixie ran across the hot flagstones to the kitchen door in her bare feet, but her mother more decorously slipped on her tennis shoes and walked. By the time she joined her daughter in the kitchen, Trixie had poured them both tall glasses of lemonade and fetched two popsicles from the freezer. She plopped down in a kitchen chair and wiggled her toes blissfully against the cool tile floor. “What time should Daddy be home?”

          Helen glanced at the old clock over the door to the dining room. “He’ll have already dropped Bobby off at the campsite and should be home in about a half hour.”

          Bobby was spending the weekend camping with his Boy Scout troop, and Mr. Belden had volunteered to drive Bobby and several of his fellow Scouts to the campsite down river where the troop was spending the holiday weekend.

          Trixie polished off her popsicle and stretched, “Gosh, Moms, it’s so hot out, I can’t bear the idea of going downtown to stand in the crowds and watch the parade.”

          “Neither can I, in fact, all that sounds good to me is a shower and a nap.”

          Trixie impulsively hugged her mother, “Go on and do it then, Moms, I’ll get a plate ready for Daddy. Would you like me to bring you something up?  
          “No thank you, dear. It’s sweet of you to pamper me, but I just need to cool off and take a little snooze.”

          “Don’t worry about anything, I’ll take care of it all.

          By the time her mother had woken from her nap an hour later, Trixie had indeed taken care of everything. She had conspired with her father to plan a restful day for her mother; first her parents were going for a drive along the river, then to have tea the Inn, and after that they were going to White Plains for dinner and a movie. “And on the way home,” Peter promised, “I’m going to stop at Killifish Point with my best girl and do a little necking, er, I mean, watch the fireworks over the river.”

          “Ew, Daddy!” Trixie protested, making a face, “ _Grooooooss_. Keep the details to yourself.”

          Her parents laughed, and Helen Belden put an arm around her daughter, “Someday you’ll embarrass your kids in the same way.”

          “But not for a long, long time,” her dad put in hastily. It was no secret that he was in no hurry for his “little girl” to grow up.

          “Ages, Daddy, ages,” she assured him, eyes twinkling.

          “But Peter, what about Trixie? We should take her with us, we can’t leave her all alone on a holiday.”

          “No worries, Moms, I’ve got plans. I’m going to go riding in the preserve and maybe stop by and visit Mr. Maypenny, then I’m going to take some cookies and sparklers over to Mrs. Vanderpoel and Old Brom…heaven knows Mrs. Vanderpoel has fed us enough cookies over the years, I thought it would be a treat for her! Then when it gets dark, I thought I would drive in to town and have a burger at Wimpy’s and watch the fireworks from the park.” She misinterpreted her mother’s frown, “Don’t worry, I cleared it all with Daddy already!”

          “Won’t you be lonely?”

          “Oh no, Moms, I’m looking forward to it!”

          As she waved her parents off, Trixie reflected that it wasn’t exactly a lie. She was looking forward to her plans, but it was so different from how she would normally spend a Fourth of July weekend that she couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for herself. Shaking off the gloom, she whistled fruitlessly for Reddy, until she finally tracked him down in the orchard, chasing squirrels despite the heat.     “Silly dog,” she chuckled, leading him home, “I’ll be home later, and I’ll let you out. But I’m afraid that after that, it’s your kennel for you tonight. At the sound of the first firework I’d be worried you’d try to bolt!” Luckily they were far enough from town that the sound of the fireworks usually didn’t travel to them, unless the wind was right.

          There wasn’t a breath of wind stirring as she trudged up the hill to the Manor House; she arrived, flushed and sweaty, to find Regan in the tack room, cleaning a saddle.

          “Goodness, don’t you ever take a day off?” She asked teasingly.

          He looked up with a welcoming smile, “I do, but as a matter of fact, I went for a ride and needed to get this cleaned. I’m off in a minute. Tom and Celia went downtown to the parade, and Cook needs me to run her into town for some last minute things for the staff barbeque tonight.”

          “ _You’re_ driving?” Trixie said, put a lot of amazement into her voice. For years Regan had been notoriously anti-car. “But I thought you hated driving!”

          He rolled his green eyes, “I prefer horses, it’s true, but I know how to drive. I just wasn’t very comfortable behind the wheel for a few years. I grew up in the city, and I didn’t get my license until just before I moved here. Give a guy a break, can’t you?”

          “I suppose I’ll concede the point.” Trixie grinned, “So, I came to take a ride, who needs exercise?”  
          “Tom took Starlight for a ride this morning, and I’ve already exercised Jupiter and Strawberry. Ms. Trask took Susie out yesterday, so it’s Lady for you.”

          “You already took both Jupiter and Strawberry for a ride? Gosh, how early did you get up?”

          “Well normally I get up at five, but given how hot the forecast was, I figured I better get up earlier and take the horses out while it was still relatively cool. So today I got up at four.”

          Trixie groaned, “Ugh, you normally get up at five? Why?”

          “Because, Miss Curiosity, I go running.”

          Trixie pictured Regan in running short and stifled a giggle. She was so used to seeing Regan in boots, Jodhpurs or jeans, and the Manor House staff Polo shirt that he wore, that she couldn’t quite picture his long legs bare.

          “You get up that early to go running?! I never suspected you for a masochist.”

          “No, just trying to prevent middle aged spread,” he joked, patting his flat stomach.

          “Oh you’re a few years from that aren’t you? I mean, you’re what, thirty?”

          A brief look of annoyance flashed over his face then was gone almost before she saw it, “No, Miss Curiosity, I’m only twenty-six.” He hung up the tack, putting away the saddle soap and washing his hands in the sink. “Tom and I started running not long after he joined the staff, but he doesn’t have much incentive to get out of bed at dawn, since he got married.”

          He dried his hands and leaned against the sink, “You sure are asking a lot of questions. I thought you gave up on the idea of becoming a detective.” Trixie had a natural talent for discovering- and solving- mysteries, and had dreamed for years of becoming a private detective, and opening the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency with Honey. But as she got older she realized that the type of detective work she dreamed of doing was only in books and movies. Modern detectives mostly followed cheating spouses, or investigated industrial espionage or false medical insurance claims.

          His smile told her he was teasing, but she answered him seriously. “Now I’m going to be getting a delayed start, but I want to get my bachelor’s in Criminal Justice, then I plan on going to the Police Academy. I want to join the Sleepyside PD and eventually become a detective.”

          “You should come running with me,” Regan offered. “You’ll need to be in shape to make the cut at the Academy.”

          “I’m not out of shape! And I won’t join the Academy for a few years, even if I just spend a few semesters at SUNY Westchester, it takes four years to get a bachelor’s.”

          “No, you’re not out of shape, but you could be in better shape. I heard you panting when you came in. It’s good to start conditioning your body now.”

          “I’ll have plenty of extra time,” Trixie reflected gloomily, her earlier depression settling back over her, “Since I didn’t get into Penn.”

          Regan looked sympathetic, but his voice was matter of fact, “Count yourself lucky that you get to finish school.”

          A sudden suspicion seized Trixie, and she looked at Regan out of the corner of her eyes, while she took down the tack so she could get Lady ready for her ride. Her voice casual, she asked, “Did you get to finish school, Regan?”

          “Nope. I ran away from my last foster family when I was seventeen, and then I kicked around for years before I got the job here.”

          She looked at him then, “You should get your GED. It sounds to me like it bothers you that you never graduated.”

          “I’ve thought about it. It would be nice say I had it. And it would look good on paper.”

          “Oh, Regan! You aren’t thinking of leaving the Manor House, are you?”

          “Not any time soon, no. But I don’t figure the Wheelers are going to live here forever, especially not now that Honey and Jim are in college. Besides, I have plans. Someday I’d like to run my own riding school.”

          Trixie smiled, “As long as you aren’t leaving any time soon. Why, I couldn’t imagine Manor House without you! We’d all miss you terribly, you know. You and your redheaded temper.”

          “I’ve got some saving and planning to do before I’m ready to make that big a move. You might be right, maybe I should work on getting my GED.”

          “I’ve got to go back to school, you might as well. We could help each other study!”

          He chuckled, “I might take you up on that, it’s been a while since I was in school. In the meantime, are you gonna to join me for a run?”

          “Well…”

          “How about Monday? Meet me outside the garage at 5:30, we’ll start out easy.”

 

******

 

_August_

          “Whew! That was a tough run up the hill!” Trixie leaned over at the waist and panted, hands on her knees.

          Regan stretched and tipped his head back to take a deep breath, his broad chest rising and falling easily under his t-shirt. Trixie snuck a quick glance at his legs out of the corner of her eyes, as she remained bent over. The sight of Regan in shorts was…impressive. Truth be told, just looking at his long bare legs gave her an illicit thrill. And as for running behind him…! Trixie was vexed with herself for ogling Regan. He was older than her, he had been an adult figure during her teen years, he was _Regan_ for heaven’s sake! But she couldn’t stop thinking about how damn cute he was. It was actually an incentive to get her out of bed in the morning.

          It hadn’t been easy, neither getting up at five thirty in the morning, nor starting to run. But Trixie was stubborn, and eventually she found her stride and if she never really adjusted wholeheartedly to getting up at five every morning, she didn’t grumble too much. By mid-August she was enjoying their runs, and her parents were so impressed with her perseverance that they bought her new running shoes and running clothes. She was happy to have a new interest, it helped fill the extra time she found she had on her hands, despite chores, school and the plans she had outlined to the girls. It was undeniably lonely without her friends around.

          In late July, Diana and the rest of the Lynch family had returned from Europe, and the girls got to spend a few days together, but Di was kept busy with last minute arrangements to make sure she was ready for college, and with shopping trips into the city to get clothes. By the first week of August she was gone, leaving for Freshmen Orientation, and no sooner had she left than Honey retuned from camp, to begin her own whirlwind preparations for leaving.

          Brian had come home for a weekend once or twice during the summer, but he was kept incredibly busy, and Trixie was happy that Mart was coming home from Uncle Andrew’s soon, since he would be able to spend two weeks at home before his first class started. Dan was remaining in Maine until fall semester started, and she missed the quietest Bob-White. An orphan, he was trying to make his way on his own, accepting little help from his uncle, although Trixie knew Regan had offered it.

          Dan had been an orphan and had lived on the streets, but he’d had, Trixie suspected, a much harder life before Sleepyside, than either Regan or Jim. They didn’t know much about his life or the gang he had joined in the year between his mom’s death and arriving in Sleepyside, as Dan was intensely private and had really only mentioned once that life in the city was very different from what they saw on weekends with their parents. While Dan had proved himself time and time again as their friend, and had been there for her in some very tight places, he didn’t share much of himself.

          After receiving a few small academic scholarships, and one baseball scholarship which had almost covered his first year, he hadn’t spent much time in Sleepyside since he started college last year with Mart. Instead he worked as much as possible between classes and practice, and hadn’t come home aside from a day or two during Winter Break. She reminded herself that she owed Dan an email; she’d have to find time to write him.

          Jim had come home for a week, but Trixie managed not to run in to him, a situation which she knew couln’t last, but she felt vulnerable, stuck at home, going to the local college, while everyone else was off conquering the world. Time enough to mend bridges later.

          Regan took a sip of water and squeezed some over his face, “I’ve got to go get cleaned up and head into the stables. Jack won’t be in until 10, and the vet is coming for a check up on all the animals at eleven. I want to have everything ready.”

          The Wheelers had hired an assistant for Regan, a cocky young man named Jack, who knew his way around horses. He was meant to be a big help for Regan, because once school started in September, Trixie was going to be kept busy with school. She had every intention of exercising the horses as much as she could, but one teenager wasn’t a replacement for seven.

          Luckily, since being diagnosed last year with ADHD, Bobby had finally gotten on a medication that helped curb his impetuousness, and temper, and it helped him focus and remain calm. He had been deemed ready to start lessons on something besides the fat little pony he had sometimes ridden. And the two sets of Lynch twins, ten year old Larry and Terry, and eight year old Daisy and Delilah were to start lessons also. So she wouldn’t feel as guilty if she couldn’t help Regan out the way she had all summer.

          The summer hadn’t been as lonely as she feared. Luckily her parents were happy to let her pay visits to their elderly neighbors, and she had passed some pleasant hours with Mrs. Vanderpoel and Old Brom, and with the Wheeler’s gamekeeper, Mr. Maypenny. Also, Trixie and Bobby had spent a lot of time swimming in the lake, and helping Moms in the garden, plus, she had run into Fay Franklin at the park on the Fourth, as they both watched the fireworks, and they had been spending time together.

          They had first met four years ago, when Fay and her mother were living at the creepy old Lisgard house, where Mrs. Franklin was the housekeeper. Fay got the Bob-Whites embroiled in an apparent case of possession, when she feared she was being controlled by the ghost of the suspected witch, Sarah Sligo, who had been burned to death many decades prior, by supersticious and vengeful townspeople. Actually, as it turned out, the new owner of the house was perpetrating a hoax, intending on selling of the valuable furnishings and then setting fire to the house. Generous Mr. Lynch had gotten Mrs. Franklin a much better job, as head of housekeeping working in Arizona, at his brother in law’s dude ranch. Fay had kept in touch, but Trixie was surprised to find out that Fay was back in Sleepyside, intending on going to college.

          Although Trixie was still officially grounded, her parents had allowed her to invite Fay out to the farm a couple times, and she was happy to learn that Fay was going to be in Sleepyside. She wanted to be a nurse, but needed to earn money for school, so she was living in at the Glen Road Inn, where she cleaned rooms, and waited tables, and was planning to take classes at the Sleepyside campus of SUNY Westchester.

          “I’ve gotta water the garden when I get home, and feed Reddy and let him out before I shower, but then I’ve got time to come up and ride before class. Save Susie for me?” Trixie jogged in place backwards, and at his affirmative nod, was off, tearing downhill towards Crabapple Farm, while Regan set off up the slope for the Manor House.

          Summer classes were taking up a lot of her free time, as well as the tutoring sessions with Seth, but Trixie was able to grab some literature at the Valhalla campus of SUNY Westchester when she had been registering for fall semester. They didn’t offer classes, but the guidance counselor she spoke with was very helpful with information for online options.

          Regan has since signed up for GED classes, and she plans on offering him her help, if he needs it. Although what help she will be, she can’t imagine! Poor Seth seems pained by her at times. Trixie knows she gets easily distracted, focusing on school work has always been a challenge for her. For years, her teachers have been telling her she has potential, if only she would “apply” herself. This year she is determined to study harder than she ever has. There is no way she is flunking again! Especially not with a bet on the line…Martin Belden will eat his words!

 

         

 

******

 

_September_

“I know it’s still school, but somehow college is way more fun that high school ever was,” Trixie twisted a strand of hair around her finger and examined it for split ends. Since classes had started she hadn’t had much time for anything else, but it looked like she was overdue for a trim. “I can’t imagine how awesome it must be at a big campus. Is it awesome? Lie to me and tell me it isn’t awesome.”

          Honey’s laugh sounded in her ear, “It’s pretty awesome, hate to tell ya. But I do miss you. It’s so weird being here with just Mart and Dan, and I hardly ever see either of them. Especially Mart. Your brother is a party animal, I never suspected.”

          Trixie snorted, “Hnnh! That explains his grades. He was always such a smart know-it-all for years, but Daddy sure read him the riot act last spring, his grades were apparently _bad_.”

          “I’m pretty surprised, I mean, he’s as much a clown as ever, but back in Sleepyside he still pulled As. Here, every time I see him, he’s running late. He looks like he rolls out of bed thirty minutes late for everything.”

          Trixie squashed a mildly uneasy feeling, and said brightly, “I guess my bet is in the bag then!”

          “How are your grades so far?”

          “Good! They should be. I’ve been working my butt off. The summer studying with Seth the Bloodless paid off , and I’ve been going to every tutoring session I can. It’s pretty embarrassing to be in so many remedial classes, but my instructors haven’t kicked me out yet, so I guess I’m one of the brighter dummies.”

          Honey sighed in exasperation, “Quit talking about yourself like that. Honestly, Trixie Belden, you’d think you were an idiot, with the way you talk. So maybe you aren’t a natural student, maybe you have trouble with some things and you aren’t starting where you wanted. But you really made amazing strides this summer, and I happen to know that you’re doing great. Otherwise you wouldn’t be joking about it.”

          Trixie was silent a minute, finally she cleared her throat and said huskily, “Thanks, Honey.”

          “Don’t mention it. Just quit running yourself down, okay? That _happens_ to be my best friend you’re talking about.”

          “And gee, your best friend misses you. Any chance you’ll be home for Halloween?”

          “Trix! I dunno, that’s like a month away.”

          “So? Never too late to think about my favorite time of year.”

          “Remember Di’s Halloween party? And the odious Uncle Monty imposter?”

          “And remember the real Uncle Monty? It was so much fun going to his ranch in Arizona.”

          “We always had so much fun, even with all the mysteries. _Especially_ with all the mysteries,” Honey amended when she heard Trixie’s indignant exclamation. “Any mysteries so far this year, Detective Belden?”

          “Just the mysteries of Algebra. I have thirty problems waiting for me, and I must bow to the lash of their whip. Otherwise I face my teacher’s displeasure and the prospect of letting Mart win!”

          “Well off to it then, Beatrix, and whip those equations into shape!”

 

******

 

_October_

          “Be glad you’re a horse, Susie. Math sucks. Tell me any occasion in my life when I’m going to need Algebra. Please, tell me.”

          It wasn’t the little black mare who answered her, but Regan, “Tell me about it! There's a lot of stuff on the GED that I’m pretty sure _no one_ will ever need. I gave up the idea of doing this on my own. I’m going to White Plains for a few prep classes.” He stepped out of his office and gave Susie an affectionate pat, “Horses don’t care if you have a degree or not. I’m starting to wonder if maybe I shouldn’t give it up.”

          Trixie was laughing, but she shook her head and the curry comb at him, “If I can do this, then I know you can. Susie and Jupiter may never care if you get your GED, but think about what it will mean when you go to the bank for a loan. Or when you talk to investors about expansion.”

          Regan couldn’t help but laugh, “You sure have me moving faster on the idea of a riding school than I would get on my own. Investors, eh? _And_ expansion.” He looked at Susie very seriously, “I haven’t even got a stable of my own, and already she wants me to expand.”

          Trixie grinned cheekily as she led Susie into her stall, and removed the halter from the horse’s neatly shaped little head, giving her a scratch behind the ears and a carrot as reward. “I only want the best for my friends.”

          “I guess I can’t be too mad that you got me into this mess then, can I?”

          She threw the curry comb at him and then gulped, Regan was a lot more easy going than he used to be, but he didn’t play around in the stables. She was slightly unnerved when he gave her an unreadable look from green eyes that shone like a cat’s in the gloom. He picked up the comb and put it away neatly, then shook his head. “Watch where you throw things in here…if you were to spook one of the horses-“

          “I know! I’m really, really sorry, Regan, I wasn’t thinking.”

          Apparently he picked up on her distress. He smiled, and it was like the sun shining back through the clouds, “No harm done. But watch the arm there, Santana.”

          “I didn’t know you were a Mets fan, Regan.”

          “I didn’t know you knew who Santana was.”

          “With three brothers? Even if I didn’t like baseball, which I do, I could hardly escape knowing. Have you ever been to one of their games?”

          “I had a foster dad who took me to a few games, when I was a kid. Tom and I went a few years ago, but he’s not really a baseball guy. He’s a huge Giants fan, though, for some reason.”

          “Sounds like you like football about as much as I do, which is none. I guess you’re more into wrestling.”

          He looked blank, “Wrestling?”

          “Yeah, y’know, the muscly guys in the shiny panties?”

          “Uh, no, not really,” he looked curiously at her, “Why would you think I liked wrestling?”  
          “Oh, I dunno, something Honey said years ago, or Ms. Trask, I forget.”

          A look of amusement lit his face, and he leaned back in his creaky old office chair. “ _That_ explains all the wrestling calendars.”

          “Huh?”

          “Ever since my first Christmas here, Honey has been giving me WWE calendars.”

          Trixie giggled, then laughed outright, “She hasn’t?!”

          “Yup. I thought it was sweet of her to get me anything, and I wouldn’t have hurt her feelings for the world, but I couldn’t figure out why she kept giving me the “Stars of WWE Raw!” calendars every Christmas.” They laughed and he shook his head affectionately, “Don’t say anything to her, yeah? I’m sure she would be embarrassed.” He fiddled with a pencil, “I guess somehow or other Marge found out I’m a fan of the UFC, and confused it with wrestling.”

          “Isn’t that the same thing?”

          “Hell no, that kind of wrestling is fake and staged. Cheesy. But the UFC has real fighters; mixed martial arts, boxing…I got into it when I was living with my-with the Hendersons. They’re the ones who introduced me to horses. Jim Henderson was this quiet looking guy, but he liked to box. He thought he could help me work off some of my anger and my energy. He enrolled me in an MMA class, and it was some of the most fun I’ve ever had, aside from horses. Anyway, that’s how I got into it. We used to watch together.”

          Trixie didn’t know what to say. This was the most Regan had ever talked about himself; if Dan was reticent, they needed to invent a word for how private Regan was. Or had been. She was actually kinda touched that he had shared himself with her.

          “They sound pretty nice.”

          “They were. I actually got an email from them a few months ago, I guess she Googled me and found my Facebook profile-“ He stopped at her quietly muffled snort and raised a superior eyebrow, “What, you teenagers think you own it?” She made a show of zipping her mouth, and gave him a meek look. “I set it up so I could keep up with Dan when he went off to college. Anyway, it was nice hearing from her.”

          “I bet they were proud and happy to find out you were doing so well for yourself.”

          “That’s almost exactly what Maureen said.” Regan tried to hide it, but she could tell he was touched. Impulsively she squeezed his hand, “I’m sure your mom is proud of you too.”

          He blinked and shook off a look of sadness, and shooed her out of the office, “Go on, I know you have class, and I have work to do.”

 

******

 

“You have a new FRIEND REQUEST from TRIXIE BELDEN. CONFIRM?”

          Regan smiled and clicked Confirm.

 

******

          “Hey! You took all the good stuff, all the chocolate!” Bobby looked into the depths of his plastic sack of candy and glared at his sister, his youthful face masked by Joker makeup. “No fair! I’m telling Moms.”

          “It’s the candy toll. You get me chauffeuring you lot around and you have to pay the toll. Look at it this way, with my taking you in the car, you cover more ground, and with it being me instead of Daddy, you get to go longer. I have more stamina. Now quit whining and go, I’ll meet you at the end of the block.” Trixie waited until Bobby, Terry, and Larry piled out and slammed the doors, then she slowly maneuvered the Nissan through the crowds of kids and families crossing Maple Street and parked as close to the end of the block as she could get. She rolled down her window and inhaled the crisp air, catching whiffs of dead leaves, pumpkins, wood smoke and hay.

          Waving at a few friends and classmates, she settled into her seat and popped in the earbuds to her iPod, shuffling through until she found some of the spooky music she had downloaded. This wasn’t nearly as much fun as going to a Bob-White party, or trick or treating, but she wasn’t having too bad a time, and this way Moms and Daddy were free to go the adult Halloween party the Lynches were throwing. She had promised to take the gruesome threesome trick or treating until nine, then they were going back home and the boys would make popcorn, binge eat candy, and watch inappropriately scary movies in the den. Meanwhile, she had a date to call Dan, and then she was going to watch some DVDs on her laptop, _When a Stranger Calls_ , and maybe the original _Dracula_ , if it wasn’t too late.

          A few hours later, she gratefully saw the last of the boys as they rummaged for snacks in the kitchen. She snagged a strawberry soda from the fridge, begged them not to burn the house down making popcorn, and went upstairs to wash off the witch make up she had worn, and change from her long black dress into leggings and a long-sleeved SUNY WESTCHESTER t-shirt. Feeling like she still had green make up in her pores, she pulled her hair back and applied a mud mask. She was about to call Dan when her phone rang, surprising her.

          “Fay, what’s up, girl? Happy Halloween!”

          “Happy Halloween! Where are you? I’m at Nick’s party and I haven’t seen you all night.”

          “I’m officially still baby-sitting. How is it?”

          “Pretty tame, but fun. I wish you were here, you should see my costume!”

          “Snap me a few pix. And have fun!”

          “Talk to you at school!”

          A minute later her phone beeped and she laughed when she saw Fay mugging for the camera. She was dressed as Sarah Sligo; laughing, Trixie tapped out a reply: ‘Glad u have a sense of humor bout it now! U look awesome, v scary yet sexy. Go get some.’ Tapping SEND, she couldn’t suppress a shiver; they may have debunked the “possession” at Lisgard house all those years ago, but she was pretty sure that she had actually seen the ghost of poor, doomed Sarah Sligo.

          She pulled up Dan’s contact info, smiling at the profile picture of him, his arm slung around Mart’s shoulder, grinning at the camera. She selected his cell number, hitting CALL, she put the phone on speaker and opened her soda.

          “Trix! Happy Halloween.”

          “Happy Halloween to you too, Danny!”

          “Seen any ghosts tonight?”

          “Just one.”

          “Oh, yeah?”

          She laughed and explained about Fay’s costume, and he chuckled appreciatively. “And what did you dress up as?”

          “Just a garden variety witch, green-faced strain…you?”

          “No costumes at work, not that it matters, I feel kinda silly dressing up at my age.”

          “Okay, old man.”

          “It’s different when we’re all home, and everyone is dressed up. But here I just feel too old for it. Anyway, how was your night?”

          “Eh. I drove Bobby and the Lynch boys around town for simply ages, I’m surprised there was any candy left for anyone else.”

          “You steal all their chocolate?”

          “You know it.”

          “For a chick who wants to be a cop, you’re surprisingly larcenous.”

          “Says the dude who wants to be an FBI agent, yet assumed I would steal candy from kiddies.”

          Dan sighed gustily, “Sometimes I wonder if I do. I said for years I wanted to be a cop in NYC, then I decided becoming an agent and working on an FBI task force sounded more like it. But I’m tired of school and the idea of going for a couple more years, then going through Quantico…I dunno, Trix. I don’t think it’s what I want any more.”

          She was actually pretty stunned, groping for the right words. Finally she just said, “Well if you don’t think it’s what you want to do, maybe you should think about what you do want.”

          “Thanks for not lecturing me.”

          “Me, lecture? Screw that, I got enough lectures over the past five years or so that I vowed to never lecture anyone.”

          Dan laughed, and she could feel his smile, “All I know is I’m not really a scholar, not like Brian and Jim, and I’m ready for some action and to see something of the world besides New York.”

          “Well whatever end up doing, they’ll be lucky to have you. Of course, that’s as long as they don’t learn of your terrible singing voice and how much you love _creamed corn_.”

          “Mmmm…creamed corn.”

          “Weirdo.”

          “…Freckles,” Dan retorted after an obvious pause during which he tried to think of an insult.

          “Ha! That’s not an insult, that’s a pet name. Danny just looooooooooooves me too, too much to even think of anything mean and nasty.”

          “Aaaaaand on that note I’m hanging up. Watch out for ghosts and goblins, Freckles.”

          “G’night, Dan,”

          “G’night, Trixie.”

 

******

 

_December_

          Honey tucked her arm through Trixie’s and hunched her back against the cold wind blowing across the lake, “Brrr! It’s so cold out here I can feel my sinuses freezing. Hurry up and tell me what your parents said when Mart told them.”

          “They said pretty much everything you’d expect them to say. Daddy was _furious_. Moms kept trying to calm him down, but he was pretty steamed. He thinks Mart is throwing his future away.”

          “He’s always been funny, he was voted class clown, but…a comedian?”  
          “I know! He said he had been doing stand-up in the city for a while now, and he was getting quite a following, and he has an agent interested in signing him.” Trixie made a face, “I don’t think Mart’s nearly as funny as he thinks he is, but I guess if an agent wants to sign him-? Anyway, he was really calm, he just told them that this way they wouldn’t have to pay to put him through college, and he wouldn’t have to worry about student loans or winning any more scholarships.”

          “I can’t believe he’d do this. It seems so risky. Although, I guess it isn’t as wild as if Brian or Jim were to drop out.”

          “Right?!” Trixie sniffled, the wind was giving her a runny nose, “Listen, I better run back inside and make sure World War Three hasn’t broken out. Moms is trying to keep the peace but she could use some moral support.”

          “Text me and let me know everything’s okay, or at least that both armies have backed down.”

 

******

 

          “This?...this was an excellent idea. Tell your parents job well done, Honey.” Trixie tightened the knot in her towel and leaned back on the bench seat of the brand-new sauna Mr. Wheeler had installed as a Christmas surprise.

          “I feel positively Icelandic,” Diana said, tucking a stray strand of hair back in her clip, and stretching luxuriously. “I think this is the warmest I’ve been in two months!”

          “I think that’s Swedish, Di,” Honey laughed, “or maybe I mean Norwegian? Anyway, this is pretty marvelous.”

          Trixie grinned and waggled her eyebrows, “We could go for the full Nordic experience…flog ourselves with branches, roll in the snow naked-“ she was cut off by the shrieks of both her friends.

          Di had covered her ears, “Stop! Stop! You’re giving me frostbite.” She shuddered, “I’m so tired of the cold, and the snow. Vermont is lovely, but it’s so _white_. And then I come home and it’s just as snowy and freezing. I’d love to be on a warm, tropical beach somewhere. Just me and my bikini.”

          “And a tropical drink, one with the little colorful umbrella,” Honey supplied, licking her dry lips.

          “Served by a cute native in a tiny loincloth,” Trixie murmured. They looked at her in surprise, and she pretended to scowl. “What? I haven’t been on a date in almost a year. A girl has needs.”

          “Ohhh, girlfriend,” Di actually tutted, looking a little shocked, “It’s time to get over Jim Frayne—sorry Honey-- and find someone new and improved—sorry, Honey—someone who will take your mind off that tall redhead.”

          For a minute Trixie thought of another tall redhead and she could feel a blush sweep over her…hopefully they wouldn’t notice since it was so hot in here and they were all pretty pink. Trying to take her mind off of the image of a sweat-sheened Regan standing on the beach in nothing but a teeny, tiny loincloth— _don’t go there, don’t go there, don’t go there_ —she shamelessly threw Honey under the bus.

          “Hey, if I have to go on a date and it’s only been a year since Jim and I broke up, why aren’t you on Honey’s case? It’s been two and a half years since she and Brian broke up, and I haven’t heard you say one word to her about finding someone new.”

          Honey looked upset, but in her usual bid for tact, she rearranged her features and managed a smile. “I _have_ been on dates since then, Trix. I went out with a few nice boys, but mostly the guys at college, are, well, douches.”

          _There goes my big mouth_ , Trixie thought guiltily, _the last thing I should be doing is reminding Honey of their break up._ It hadn’t been a surprise to anyone when Brian and Honey started dating, but what had been a surprise was when, a few months into his first year at college, they broke up. Honey tried to pretend it was mutual, and, in typical Honey fashion, tried to pretend like it hadn’t broken her heart. They were all so close that she feared causing a rift between the BWGs, so she acted like it was all fine. Trixie and Di both knew how much it had hurt her.

          Trixie had confronted Brian about it, but after reminding her that it was none of her business, all he would say was that medical school was going to require a lot of sacrifice and take a lot of years, and it was better if he and Honey didn’t try and nurture a relationship through that kind of stress.

          “Ugh, they so are,” Diana agreed, smoothing over the moment, “I’ve given up on them. Maybe I can find a nice geeky boy who loves sci-fi, who knows how to appreciate a girlfriend.”

          No one reminded her that Mart had been a geeky sci-fi fanboy and their fledgling romance hadn’t worked. Di hadn’t seemed to be bothered by it, but Trixie knew, without Mart saying a word, that he did. There was no way in hell he would ever get another girlfriend as kind, funny, and gorgeous in this lifetime. Di Lynch might have gotten out of their relationship with a whole heart, but she would always own a piece of his.

          _Just like Jim will always own a piece of mine?_

******

 

_February_

          “First Mart, now Dan.” Helen Belden shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with these boys. They’re so restless. Why can’t they appreciate the sacrifices everyone has made and finish school? What kind of job can they expect to get without a degree or certification of some sort? The world is changing, it isn’t as simple and innocent as it once was.”

          Trixie gave her a hug, “Mart will do what he thinks is best, regardless of what you and Daddy say. If there’s one person in this family that is even more stubborn than _me_ , it’s Mart!” She smiled at her mother, “And it isn’t like Dan’s mooching around, living off of Regan. He’s joining the Marines after he finishes this semester.” She didn’t mention how she worried about him, now wasn’t the time to give her mom more to fuss over. She went back to rolling out sugar cookie dough, “Man, Bobby is going to be pre-tty popular at school with all these homemade cookies and brownies, Moms.” She rolled her eyes, “although he _could_ come lend a hand.”

          Her mother laughed and added M&Ms to the brownie batter, “He’s upstairs, trying to find a way to give everyone in his class a Valentine, without giving anyone a “mushy” one.”

          “Ohhhh, I remember those days!” Trixie snitched a swipe of batter, “Yummy…although they’re always better with the peanut butter cups.”

          Helen rolled her eyes, “Oh, for the carefree days of your youth. They didn’t send home two page lists of everything any student could potentially be allergic to when you were in middle school. Bobby and his classmates will just have to make do with extra chocolate.”

          “Luckily my friends can have peanut butter,” Trixie said, referring to the treats she had made already.

 

******

 

          “Happy Valentine’s Day, Ms. Trask!”

          Margery Trask, a trim and fit forty-four year old, who wore her silver and white streaked hair in a neat pixie cut, looked up from the computer where she was working in her little office, tucked away under the stairs in the main entry to Manor House. Her blazer was arranged neatly over the back of her chair, and she had pushed up the sleeves of her turtleneck. “Trixie,” she said warmly, taking off her reading glasses, and inviting her in, “Happy Valentine’s Day to you also. My, you look very nice. So grown up.” She admired the young lady she had watched grow up from a reckless tomboy to a high-spirited college student.

          Trixie was wearing Moms’ nice camel-colored wool trench coat over one of Honey’s birthday gifts, a navy dress, tights and navy patent leather and beige suede flats. She went pink and patted her hair, trying not to smile like a loon, “Thanks. Moms has an appointment for us to all to take a family portrait, even Bri and Mart.”

          “I didn’t realize Brian was home.”

          “Just for the day. One of his classes was cancelled, and amazingly he didn’t have a shift at the clinic, so he came down after his morning classes. He’s leaving again at dawn. Which is probably about what time Mart will be getting back home.” Trixie was disgruntled. Her Almost Twin had dropped out at the end of the fall semester, and was living at home while his agent arranged some club dates for him. In the meantime, he was running into White Plains, and the city all the time, picking up Open-Mic nights at little clubs, and shanghaiing college buddies to film his shows for a portfolio. Subsequently he was hardly ever at home, and he got back near dawn most of the time. She was pretty sure their dad was going to insist he move out if he kept this up. Hopefully they could at least remain civil today for Moms’ sake.

          “After the pictures, Brian and Mart are taking Bobby to the movies and Moms and Daddy are going to the Sweetheart dance at the Country Club. Are you going?”

          Ms. Trask smiled ruefully, “You rather need a sweetheart for that.” For several years she and the cranky Mr. Lytell, who ran Lytell’s Grocery Store on Glen Road had been…if not exactly dating, then at least keeping company. But that had ended a few years back. “Are you going to the dance?”

          Trixie struggled to look nonchalant, “No-I uh, I have a date.”

          “Oh?”

          “Yeah, Jack and I are having dinner at the Inn and then maybe we’ll catch a movie.”

          Ms. Trask, bless her, didn’t ask any probing questions, she just wished Trixie a pleasant evening, and thanked her for the colorful cellophane goodie bag full of iced sugar cookies, peanut butter cup brownies and cinnamon hearts fudge that she had made.

          After stopping by the garage to hand a grease-streaked Tom a similar bag for he and his wife Celia, who was a maid at Manor House, she headed for the stables. Tom stuck his head back out from underneath the staff van and hollered after her, “You look like a million bucks, tomboy!”

          “Probably should have done this before I came up here in good shoes,” she grumbled, watching where she put her feet, as she made her way carefully to the stables. Thankfully Regan was in his office, working on paperwork, and she avoided any messes on her way.

          “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she greeted him cheerfully, smiling fondly at his dark red head, bent over the papers spread over his desk. “Couldn’t you find a better day to work on GED prep work?”

          He greeted her warmly, leaning back in his chair with a relieved sigh, “It’s good to have a break, thanks for stopping by and giving me an excuse. No, this isn’t that. I’m working on inventory and making sure the medical records are current.”

          “Again, I ask, couldn’t you find a better day for this? Shouldn’t you be getting all pimped out, ready to wine and dine some lucky lady?”

          Regan gave a crack of laughter, “You’re such a weirdo, Belden.”

          “It’s part of my charm, Regan.”

          “That it is, that it is. And to answer your question, no wining and dining for me. I’m not seeing anyone right now.” Regan had broken up with Joan Stinson, his girlfriend of nearly three years, over a year prior, since neither one had been able or willing to move, and the distance go to be too much. “Besides, I’m working ‘til six. Jack asked for the afternoon off, said he had to get ready for a “hot date.”” Then he saw the color come up in her cheeks and he guessed shrewdly, “Which might be someone I know, I take it. I didn’t realize you two were dating.”

          “He kept asking me out,” Trixie said defensively, “I finally said yes, and then he told me he wanted to take me out tonight. Is that kind of weird, like, a first date on Valentine’s Day? I’ve never dated anyone other than Jim, I don’t know if that’s weird.”

          “I’d say it was a little unusual.” Regan hesitated, as if he was debating whether or not to speak, but at last he cautioned her, “You’re old enough to do what you like, but let me just say that you shouldn’t let him make it out to be anything more than a first date, Valentine’s Day or not.” He saw the mutinous look on her face, he knew how much she hated being told what to do, and he put up a restraining hand, “I know how much Jim meant to you, and I’m just saying you should ease into it. Play the field.” He grinned at her, “Only, don’t tell your dad I said so.”

          “Yeeeeah, no. The less Daddy knows the better.” She handed him a clear cellophane bag, printed with pink, red and purple hearts, and bulging with goodies, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Regan.”

          He thanked her, and when she was almost out the door he called out, “You look beautiful, Trixie Belden. Jack won’t know what hit him tonight.”

          She looked back over her shoulder, her cheeks pinker than usual, and unconsciously looked at him from under lowered lashes, “Thanks, Regan.”

 

******

 

_March_

          Shivering in the damp March wind, Trixie pulled the zipper of her hoodie all the way up under her chin, and tugged the hood up over her wind-tangled hair. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted again, “Reddy! Redddddyyyyyy!” Her voice was snatched away by the wind and she cursed; the damn dog had been missing for a few hours and it was getting dark, the wind was picking up and threatening rain, and they were starting to get worried. Daddy and Bobby were also out looking for him, but between the three of them they hadn’t flushed him out yet. “Go fetch, Reddy, go fetch!”

          “Oh, where are you, you dumb dog,” Trixie muttered, fighting off worry, “I hope you haven’t gotten caught in a snare or fallen off the cliffs.” Or run over, or bitten by a snake—although that wasn’t that likely this time of year—or fallen in the lake. Deciding to head that way, she was grateful when the trees blocked some of the wind, which was making her eyes tear. Wiping them impatiently on her sleeve, she called again for Reddy. After skirting the lake, and checking inside the boathouse and looking up and down Glen Road, she thought she saw a flash of red near the old Gate House.

          Years ago, when Honey and Jim were new to town, the summer Brian and Mart had had their first jobs as camp counselors, they had gotten tangled in a mystery surrounding a diamond the girls, or rather, Bobby’s knee, had found in the ramshackle Gate House. That same summer, the five of them had formed the Bob-Whites, and they worked to turn the forgotten two-room shack into a club house, where they held their meetings, stored their camping and sports equipment, and spent a lot of their spare time.

          The last few years, hardly any of them went to the Clubhouse, they hadn’t had a meeting since the first summer before Dan and Mart went away to college. Although none of them exactly admitted it, their close-knit club had come to an end. Gone were the days of meetings and club endeavors and trips where all seven of them—well, not always Dan, he had to work _a lot_ —got to have fun together.

          Trixie headed toward the Clubhouse, noting that although Nailor kept the lawns mowed this far down, the weeds and vines were starting to crowd the structure. With difficulty, she reached up above the door, and grabbed the key they still kept there. She might as well go in, while she was here.

          Stepping into the dim interior, she noticed sadly that it smelled damp and musty; she flipped the switch, but nothing happened, Ms. Trask must have turned off service to the building. She fumbled for a half-forgotten flashlight, finding it on the inside of the window to the right of the door, and found that the batteries had enough juice left to cast a fading beam of light. Sweeping it around the room, she didn’t see anything amiss; rusting skates, old sleds, a molding tent, lots of dust. The flashlight abruptly went out and although she shook it a couple of times, and banged it against her hand, the batteries were dead.

          Standing in the dark, she felt for a moment, the presence of their younger selves.

          _“Oh don’t Trixie, that place is probably crawling with snakes and spiders!”_

_“Who would drop a diamond in here?”_

_“It would take a lot of work, but we could turn this into a pret-ty decent club house.”_

_“I-I think my uncle is an imposter!”_

_“Oh, Jim, isn’t it thrilling? We’re going to Arizona!”_

_“Let’s all hear it for Trix! She solved another mystery…great job, Madam Co-President…”_

Tears in her eyes, Trixie stumbled out of the building, and locked up, leaving the past behind.

_April_

          “Thanks for the birthday card,” Trixie cried, as soon as Honey answered, “I stuck it on my bedroom door and it I can see it from my bed, it’s adorable. I forgot we even took that picture!” Trixie smiled across the room at the picture of Honey, Di and herself, smiling on the boat dock last June.

          “I thought it was cute too, the three of us all in our bathing suits,” Honey laughed, “I put it into this cool program and made it into a card and added all the graphics and stuff. Then I just printed it out on good paper at Kinkos.”

          “I love it, I don’t even look that fat.”

          “Grrr, Trixie Belden! For the last time…You. Are. Not. Fat! You have such a cute figure, and you looked great in that tankini. You’d look even better in a bikini, but I doubt we could ever get you to try one on.”

          “I don’t think I’d ever have the courage to wear one,” she admitted. _Especially not around you and Di,_ she thought, _not when everyone could look at me and then look at you two and compare._ Trixie loved her friends, but sometimes it was hard being friends with two such gorgeous girls. Honey was simply beautiful, and Di could be a model or an actress. “But maybe I’ll try one on. I need to go shopping for a new bathing suit for this summer.”

          “I can’t wait for summer…I’m so sick of school right now. I just want to come home and veg. Are you taking summer courses?”  
          “Yeah, I need to get some more credits at community level, where it’s cheaper, plus it looks better for Penn.” Trixie couldn’t contain her glee from spreading to her voice. Honey shrieked in excitement, “You got in?!”  
          “I found out this morning! Oh god, you don’t know how happy I am!”

          “I knew you could do it!”

          They chatted for a while, then Honey had to get off the phone and get ready for work, she was spending Spring Break at the campus, because the day care center where she worked was short staffed. “Text me later, okay?”

          “Sure. Bye!” Trixie ended the call and laid on her bed for a minute, grinning at the ceiling. This last year had been challenging, but come fall, she would be in the college of her dreams, and with hard work—oh, so much hard work!—she would graduate in a couple of years and then, then she could finally start living her dream.


	3. All Grown Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Our girl is all grown up and living the dream! Sort of.

_Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson_

_2016_

_February_

With a grunt, Trixie put her shoulder against the rear end of old Mr. Crimper’s rattletrap old pick up and pushed. Next to her, her new partner, Jenni de Vries, leaned into the push, both of them grunting, their booted feet slipping on the half frozen snow underfoot.

          Mr. Crimper—whom Trixie was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be driving anymore anyway—had lost control on the curve on FM 4009 and spun onto the shoulder. Now he needed help getting his truck back onto the pavement, but his tires kept spinning on the slippery shoulder.

          As Detectives, neither Trixie nor Jenni were technically on traffic duty, but Sleepyside PD was a small, municipal police department, and all the force, from patrolmen up to the Sargeant, pitched in when and where they were needed, especially during the winter months.

          Finally the tires caught a bit of traction, and with a whoop and a wave out the window, Grandpa Crimper took off, going a little too fast, and headed in the wrong direction. Panting, they stood watching him go. “You’re welcome,” Jenni called out sarcastically.

          Trixie huffed out a laugh, “Ah, the glamorous life of a cop in Sleepyside. This is livin’ the dream, I tell you.”

          A refrigerated truck, advertising Harcastle’s Finest Fish, rocketed past, sending up a wave of slushy, half frozen snow and muddy water, splattering their legs with muck.

          Jenni grinned at her, and rubbed her hands together, “Let’s get back in the car and you can tell me more about this club of yours while we thaw out.”

 

******

 

          “Ugh, I’m absolutely frozen!” Honey complained, climbing thankfully into the cozy warmth of Brian’s two year old Honda Pilot. “Two minutes walk from the backdoor of the school to your car and I feel like an icicle!”

          Brian leaned in and kissed her, nuzzling her cold cheek with his warm nose, “I can warm you up, Ms. Wheeler,” he promised huskily.

          Her hazel eyes sparkled, and she nibbled on his lip, murmuring into his mouth, “Maybe so, Dr. Belden, but I only have thirty minutes.”

          “I can do a lot in thirty minutes.”

          She pulled back and grinned at him, “Are you trying to tell me something?”

          He ran a hand through his dark hair and smiled down at her, “Since you know from experience what I can do in thirty minutes—or in two hours—I assume your question is rhetorical? Is it a hint that you don’t feel like getting frisky in the elementary school parking lot?”

          “Not that I don’t _feel_ like it, but maybe...inappropriate? I’m pretty sure Gloria would flip if one of her kindergarten teachers was found “getting frisky” in a car. During school hours. On school property.”

          “Not to mention how the parents and the school board would feel.” He kissed her lightly, “that will have to do for now. But tonight…”

          “All bets are off.” She cupped his cheek in her palm and rubbed his cheekbone  with her thumb, her heart squeezing with an excess of love. They were _soooo_ lucky…not everyone got a second chance with their first love. Now they were engaged, and in September—oh god, just seven months until the wedding!!!—they would be married. Her hazel eyes were luminous with tears, and she bit back a happy, gulping sob, not wanting to alarm Brian.

          He reached back behind her seat, and carefully lifted a neatly packed box from Crimper’s deli counter, balancing it on his lap, “I brought hot sandwiches… turkey and Swiss for me, grilled Mediterranean veggies for you…and chips, pickles, and some broccoli cheese soup.”

          “Mmm, yummy! You’re the perfect boyfriend, did I ever tell you?”

          “That’s fiancé, and yeah, you may have mentioned it, oh, a few million times,” he joked, handing her the wrapped sandwich and napkins. He arranged the chips, pickles and soup on the dashboard, and stowed the box on the backseat.

          “I brought hot cider,” she indicated the two thermal travel mugs she had set in the cup holders, “and…homemade spice cookies.” She reached in her bag and held up the Ziploc baggie.

          “Did I ever tell you that I have the best fiancée in the world?”

          “Just a few million times.”

 

******

 

          Helen Belden resisted sighing for the millionth time that day. Aunt Alicia had arrived unexpectedly that morning, and announced that she was spending the weekend with her nephew and his wife. Helen—and Peter—felt that family was very important, but some family was more a cross to bear than a joy to cherish. And since Peter was at work until six and then had a Board Meeting until 7:30, and Bobby was leaving directly after school for a weekend at a friend’s cabin, to do some squirrel hunting, she was left to carry the cross alone.

          “And there goes our romantic Valentine’s weekend alone,” Helen grumbled, pouring a fresh cup of coffee for Alicia, and topping off her own mug.

          “What’s that? I couldn’t understand you.” Alicia tapped her orthopedic cane on the kitchen tile, standing in the doorway to the den, her usual sour expression on her face. Helen had thought her safely stowed on the sofa in the den.

          “I was just reminding myself to add sugar to the list,” Helen lied smoothly.

          “Aren’t you going to offer me anything sweet to go with my coffee? In _my_ day, we always kept dessert for guests.”

          The smile on her face _had_ to look as fake as it was, surely even Alicia would notice. “Of course, Auntie. Take your coffee into the den and I’ll bring you a piece of pie.”

          She sniffed, “I hope it isn’t store bought. As far as I’m concerned, those places just roll over the pie dough with one of those machines they use on asphalt.”

 

******

 

          “...and then he hit the asphalt and was gone, like a bat out of hell.” Trixie shook her head and took a bite of her chicken wrap, shaking it at Dan, “One of these days we’re going to be scraping Grandpa Crimper off the roads.”

          “That’s probably how he’d like to go,” Dan mused, amusement quirking his lips. He rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his jaw, where a little black stubble enhanced his James Dean good looks. “Maybe I should have a word with his grandson the next time we play poker.”

          “Would you?” Trixie reached for one of his sour-cream and onion chips, then reminded herself that she had eaten three of the Reese’s peanut butter hearts out of the bowl on Janice’s desk that morning. Dan grinned knowingly at her and shoved a handful in his mouth. Asshole. Just because he was muscled, and as lean and hard as whipcord, didn’t mean he had to rub it in. Even with chip crumbs on his face, he was gorgeous. _All those years of hunter’s stew and chopping wood did a body good._ Of course, the Marine Corps and a gym membership didn’t hurt either.

          Clearly Jenni thought so. Trixie, who was used to how cute Dan was, could barely contain her amusement. Jenni had transferred from White Plains to Sleepyside a few weeks before, while Dan was on vacation, and they hadn’t met until last week. Already, she could tell her new partner was smitten. She was unusually silent, eating her wrap and carrot sticks and watching their exchange. A lot of people, unaware of how old their friendship was, had mistaken her and Dan for a couple, taking their banter for flirting.

          _As if_ , Trixie snorted. Dan was great, one of her favorite people, in fact, but there wasn’t any spark there. She reflected that it had been a while since she felt the spark. Work had been crazy since her promotion in November, and she hadn’t dated anyone since…jeez, Brandon? That had ended in September, and she hadn’t had a date since. And they had just gone out casually for a few months, and before that it had been three months of being single and before that, her two year relationship with Dakota had ended, more or less amicably.  _No wonder you’ve been going to the gym so much, Belden, you’re sexually frustrated._

Not that Brandon had been any help there, they never got to that point, but still... _ohmigod, has it really been a year since I’ve had sex?_

“Earth to Trix, come in, Trixie,” Dan raised an eyebrow, “Jenni was asking if you were finished.”

          “Oh! Sorry, spaced out. Yeah, I’m done here, let’s hit those reports, then we can take a drive over to the campus and talk to the counselors about what they want us to address at next week’s assembly.”

          “Do we speak at the school often?”

          “Everyone takes turns, and the Sherriff’s boys and the Staties take a go also. But there’s both of the elementary schools, the new junior high, the high school, the SUNY campus here in town, as well as the Montessori day care they opened a few years ago. They don’t ask for us as often, but yeah, all in all I’d say each of us goes a couple times a year.”

          “I’m not a big public speaker,” Jenni said, “although I can talk your ear off in private.”

          Dan, heading toward the men’s room, overheard her and laughed, “Don’t worry, Jenni, Trixie doesn’t mind talking to anybody, anywhere, anytime. You can safely let her take the lead.”

          Trixie stuck her tongue out at him.

 

******

 

          Helen let the chocolate melt on her tongue, a touch of liqueur, almost bitter but still sweet. It was a lovely gesture of Mart’s, sending his mother a huge heart shaped box full of chocolates, but she would have appreciated a phone call more.

          Peter leaned over and snagged a chocolate, popping the morsel in his mouth, then making a face when he bit into it and discovered maple bacon was the flavor. “Read the included flavor map, dear,” Helen said absently. She put the box in his hands, and when he had chosen another candy and set the box on the coffee table, she leaned against him, sitting back up so he could put his arm around her.

          Aunt Alicia had finally gone to bed, leaving them alone, and they were on the couch in front of the fire, enjoying a glass of wine.

          “What’s wrong? Was it Alicia? Sorry about that crack she made about your chicken, sweetheart, it wasn’t dry at all.”

          “She’s not the problem…well, she is a problem, but not _the_ problem.” Helen took a moody swig of her wine, the bite of the dry red washing away the sweet film of chocolate coating her tongue. “Peter, it’s been months since Mart called, over a year since he visited…I try calling him but he’s always “too busy to talk” and then he never calls back.”

          “He tours a lot, he’s always on the road,” Peter tried to soothe her worries, but he didn’t like it either. Mart had increased in popularity during the past eight years, he was currently in Vegas, performing on the Strip, and although talks of his being included in an ensemble comedy film headed by Adam Sandler and Chris Rock hadn’t panned out, he was making a real name for himself. “And I’m sure that when he has free time he’s in Chicago spending it with Justin.”

          It had been a complete shock to everyone, including Mart, when two years previous, he had found out he had a son, born to a fan he’d had a one-night stand with. Julie didn’t want any support from Mart, but she wanted him to be a part of Justin’s life, and he had stepped up and made a point of flying into Chicago whenever possible.

          “When did they all grow up? I remember when they all lived here, safe where we could keep an eye on them.”

          “Brian moved back,” Peter reminded her gently, “With his qualifications he could have gotten a job at any number of big hospitals, but he chose to come home to Sleepyside and work at the local hospital.”

          Helen couldn’t help but smile, “I think that had rather more to do with Honey than it did with us.”

          In 2013, in the second year of Brian’s residency, he had come home for Christmas and somehow it was as if he had stepped back in time, to when he and Honey were dating, _because of course they were,_ everyone knew they were meant for each other, and before he returned to Boston they were dating again. The following Christmas they were engaged and as soon as he finished his residency he accepted a job at Sleepyside Regional Healthcare Center and moved back to Sleepyside.

          “Trixie came back after college. Bobby’s still here.”

          “She chose to live in town. And Bobby is graduating in a few months.”

          “We have to let them grow up sometime, sweetheart.”

 

******

 

_Manhattan_

          “Seriously, Jim, you need to grow up.”

          “I-“

          “I mean, c’mon, you live in your parent’s apartment?” Nicole’s voice was sarcastic, more sarcastic than he had ever heard her sound. “You’re working at your dad’s company, like any other trust fund baby who can’t hack it in the real world-“

          “ _Now wait just a minute_! You know I’m saving for my-“

          “Your school, your school. I _know_. _We all know_.”

          Jim felt himself turning red, and he tried to hold on to his legendary temper. He and Nicole had been dating for four years and they had never had a fight. She was so sweet, one of the sweetest and kindest girls, er, women, he had ever met. He thought they were heading for something special, something serious. For chrissake, he had lost his virginity to her!

          She sighed, as if she was so disgusted with him that she was exhausted. “I’m sick and tired of hearing about your damn school. Maybe it’s time to get off your ass and do something about it.” She turned away from him, then looked back, her expression cool, “Whatever you decide to do, I won’t be around to hear it.”

          “Now, wait, Nicole, damn it! I-“

          “I’m unhappy, and I’m bored, and I’m, I’m just done, Jim. I should have ended this months ago, there’s no fire to our relationship and I’m not even sure it’s me you see when you look at me…but I didn’t want to do it at Christmas.” She shrugged, “anyway, I already took my things, if you find anything I forgot, send it to my building in a taxi.”

          Jim tried reasoning with her, asking if they could try to salvage a relationship they had given so many years to, but it was clear that she had made up her mind and was moving on regardless of how he felt about it.

          After she was gone, he stood in the middle of his parent’s luxurious Park Avenue penthouse and looked around. He was torn between laughter and tears, and he wanted to punch a damn wall in. No, Mother and Dad wouldn’t like that. He snorted, Mother and Dad.

          Madeleine and Matt Wheeler had adopted him thirteen years before, and he had dutifully called them his parents, but sometimes he wished people would remember that he had _had_ parents…great parents, who loved him and who he missed fiercely. His _real_ mom and dad. Calling the Wheelers mom and dad was a sign of respect to them, but sometimes it felt like he was losing his memories of James and Natalie Frayne. But life with the Wheelers was far preferable to life as a teenage runaway, so he had tried to be the perfect son.

          _Screw **that**_ , he suddenly thought viciously, and kicked at the wall. His loafer skidded off the oak wainscoting, leaving a black scuff mark on the glossy white paint. Unsatisfied, he marched to the door, jerked it open and with a terrific crash slammed it shut. Better, but still angry. He repeated his action, then three more times, yelling in something close to a temper tantrum, or as close as a twenty-eight year old could get. He only stopped when he realized how childishly he was acting. Nicole thought he needed to grow up, and if she saw how he was behaving, how he had lost control, she might be right.

          “Hell no,” he growled, “I have two degrees, I _earned_ my position at a _Fortune 500 company_ , I’m nearly thirty years old and I’m perfectly grown up!” At first Jim didn’t realize he was shouting until he heard his voice echoing in the empty apartment. Temper cooling, he was embarrassed at his loss of self-control. Thank Christ, the housekeeper wasn’t here to witness this humiliating episode. The ringing of the house line interrupted him and he thought about ignoring it, but a sense of duty made him pick up. It could be a call for Dad.

          “Wheeler residence, Jim speaking.”

          “Ah, Mr. Frayne, this is Luke, downstairs?” It was the concierge, sounding hesitant.

          “Luke, yes, of course, what can I do for you? Is there a delivery?”

          “Er, no…No, that is, well, I’m afraid I’ve gotten a number of calls. Some of your downstairs neighbors complained that they heard some bangin’ and shoutin’ and I-I just uh, wanted to make sure you’re alright?”

          Jim’s face flamed, this was what happened when you lost control. “I’m sorry about that, Luke, I was uh, watching the game and I got excited. I’ll keep it down. Please extend my apologies to the neighbors.” He hung up and sank onto one of the four deep leather couches in the living room and stared at the ceiling. Great. He spent four years with a woman that, sure, yeah, superficially maybe, kinda, sorta, okay, really physically reminded him of Trixie—although waaaaay more, uh, malleable? No that sounded bad. Easy going? Whatever the word was, she had walked out as if four years didn’t mean anything. Now he was here alone, dumped the day before Valentine’s—way to go, loser!—and to top it all off, the neighbors and Luke the concierge all thought he was a spouse abuser or a nut job or maybe just a plain old asshole.

 

******

 

          “Asshole,” Trixie yelled at the gray Toyota which cut her off, “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood or I’d pull you over and write you up!” She scowled after the car, “Did you see that? That guy has a reflector _clearly_ missing from his rear passenger side panel, he cut me off, so he’s endangering other motorists, and he could have been speeding.”

          “Abuse of power,” Dan drawled from the passenger seat, “motivated by spite. This is one of the reasons why Americans think cops are power-mad fascists.”

          She threw him an incredulous look and burst out laughing at the expression on his face, “Okay, so maybe I was being a wee bit spiteful, but he could have dented my baby.” She patted the dash fondly, “I mean, c’mon! I’ve got three more years of payments on this beauty. Besides, if we’re in an accident, who’d drive your ass to and from work?”

          “Only for a few more days, I talked to Lester earlier, he swore to me they would have my Jeep out of the shop, by Tuesday at the latest.”

          “I hope so, otherwise people are really going to think we’re dating if I keep driving you everywhere.”

          “Speaking of, you want to go to this shindig at the Country Club on Sunday?”

          “Do I, Trixie Belden, want to go to a Ruby Anniversary Sweetheart’s Dance at the Country Club with you, Dan Mangan? Uh, is this your way of declaring your, sweet, sweet love for me, Danny?”

          “You wish. Naw, I just figured since neither of us was seeing anyone, and Honey won’t stop badgering me about going, that we could go together.”

          “I’m touched by your obvious desire for my company, but right now I’d rather work the senior center on chicken fried steak day than go to a sweetheart’s dance. No offense.”

          “None taken. I’ll just lie to Honey and tell her I just broke up with someone.”

          “You _did_ just break up with someone. Jasmine, remember her? I know it was only two months this time, but you just broke up like three weeks ago.”

          “Oh yeah, Jasmine. She was sweet, but that girl had marriage-n-babies on the brain. Much as I like kids, most of the time, I’m not ready for ‘em just yet.”

          “Well maybe you shouldn’t have invited her on vacation with you to Cozumel.”

          “She looks good in a bikini.”

          “Sexist pig.”

          “Feminazi.”

          Trixie swung into the police station parking lot and smirked at him, “It’s a good thing you’re cute, Dan Mangan, otherwise some woman would have killed you a long time ago.”

          “Combat trained Marine, remember?”

          “Quit fluffing your ego for a minute, can’t you? Since neither of us want to go to the dance, I was thinking maybe we could go out to dinner…but not anywhere they’re going to be serving heart-shaped everything and lighting candles all over the place.”

          “So...Wimpy’s?”

          “There’s that steakhouse on the river, they’re nice but not schmaltzy, I bet they tone it down. Maybe we could invite Regan and Ms. Trask.”

          “Playing matchmaker?”

          “Ha, ha. No, I just thought, all four of us are single right now, maybe we could go out to dinner and just have a nice time, as adults, who aren’t interested in dating and are _perfectly fine_ with being celibate for a year, but want a good dinner and not to be totally alone on a commercially crass but still significant holiday where finding yourself alone makes you feel like Bridget Jones in a sad montage.”

          “I didn’t understand half of that, and the other half I’m not touching with a ten-foot pole and riot gear. Let me just say that it sounds nice, the steak and company part, not the celibacy and the sadness part. Not that I’d know anything about that. Jasmine looked _damn_ fine in a bikini. And out of it.”

          “Get out.”

 

******

 

          Chief Molinson was droning on, reaming the rookie patrolmen and women for uniform infractions and lost paperwork. Trixie crossed her arms over her chest and wished the briefing would end already. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket and stealthily checked it under the table. The chief was not a fan of technology, and he hated when his officers checked their phones during meetings, but really, her rookie days were over and her paperwork was pristine, so she snuck a look.

DAN MANGAN:   ‘the senior ctr on cf steak day???’

TRIXIE BELDEN:   ‘Have u ever seen a roomful of 80 yo ppl with dentures trying to masticate steak?’

DAN MANGAN:   ‘that sound you heard was me barfing.’

TRIXIE BELDEN:   ‘Mostly it’s drowned out as they shout to be heard over the cacophony of chewing.”

          She smothered a grin as she watched Dan’s face. One or two of her fellow cops were aware that they were texting and were trying to turn smirks into expressions of mild interest in the Chief’s harangue. While she had her phone out, she decided to text Marge, who responded almost immediately.

TRIXIE BELDEN:   ‘How does steak & a DIVINE turtle cheesesteak sound?’

MARGE TRASK:    ‘Like a triple bypass.’

TRIXIE BELDEN:   ‘Haha. Srry , supposed to be cheese CAKE.

TRIXIE BELDEN:   ‘Dan & I are thinking dinner, The Landing @7 tomo. See u there?’

MARGE TRASK:    ‘Dee-lighted.’

          Keeping an eye on the Chief, she tapped out another quick text.

TRIXIE BELDEN:   ‘How do you feel about a steak dinner & excellent company, tomo nite?”

          The briefing was nearly wrapped up when her phone finally buzzed.

LIAM REGAN:    ‘Uh…conflicted?’

TRIXIE BELDEN:   ‘Why conflicted‘-

          “Belden!” The Chief barked, “You better have a hot lead, if you’re on your phone during my meeting.”

          “Sorry, Chief.”

          “Set a better example for the rookies.”

          “Yes, sir.”

          On her way out of the conference room she quickly finished her text, trying to juggle her files and not drop her phone.

          -‘NM, duty calls, u can tell me tomo. 7 p.m. @ The Landing.’

 

 

******

          “I’m ready, oh moon of my delight,” Honey paused in the doorway to the Manor House living room, and smiled at Brian, who looked very handsome in a dark suit and red tie, perusing the bookshelves.

          He looked up and a slow smile spread across his face, he walked across the room, took her hands in his, holding her arms out to her sides and looked her up and down. She was stunning in a simple, long sleeved, floor length dark red velvet gown, her hair pinned up and the garnet and marcasite earrings he had given her sparkling. Honey did a slow twirl, and the sight of the creamy skin of her back, mostly bared by the unexpectedly deep keyhole opening that began at her nape and ended in the small of her back made Brian feel like his necktie was too tight and as if the fireplace had suddenly roared into flame.

          “You…look amazing. Mouth-watering. Can we skip the dance and go up to your room?”

          She blushed, and peeked to make sure her parents weren’t around. “No! I want to dance in your arms tonight. But afterwards…”

          “Oh yeah?” he asked a trifle roughly.

          “Afterwards, we go back to your place and I show you what I’m wearing under this dress.”

          “Hot damn.”

 

******

 

          “Hot damn,” Dan whistled in admiration, as he climbed in the car, “Lookin’ good, Freckles.”

          Trixie sighed, “I spend an hour getting ready, and you call me Freckles.”

          “What? It’s a sign of affection.”

          “I’ve been wishing I didn’t have freckles since I was eight years old, yet you always point them out.”

          “Again, affection. It’s an en _dear_ ment. You don’t have nearly as many freckles as you used to, and besides, lots of guys think they’re sexy.”

          “Name one.” Trixie demanded, as she pulled out into the light traffic headed toward the river.

          Dan shrugged, “I can’t name anyone, but there are guys. If you can’t find one, you could always date a guy who had more freckles than you. Then you’d always look good in comparison. Take Uncle Liam for instance, he’s way more freckled than you.”

          “He doesn’t have that many- look, never mind. I assume you aren’t advocating I date your uncle, so just keep an eye out for one of these mythical guys for me. Only please, no serial daters, like you. Or psychos. And if he could be local?”

          “Sheesh, ask for the moon, why don’t you?”

 

******

 

          “Look at that moon,” Helen said softly, as she danced in her husband’s arms. The moon glowed softly through the clouds, and bathed the subtly lit grounds of the Club in soft radiance. “It’s very romantic.”

          Peter pressed a kiss to her temple and pulled her a little closer, “Anywhere I am is romantic with you.”

          “Why darling, you still say the sweetest things after all these years.”

          “A smart man keeps a beautiful woman like you as happy as he can.”

          “Mmm,” she snuggled her head on his chest and they danced in silence. After a few bars she raised her head, “Do you suppose Mrs. Vanderpoel and Aunt Alicia are getting along?”

          “If Aunt Alicia gives her any grief, I’ll raise Mrs. Vanderpoel’s credit rating,” Peter joked.

          “It was so good of her to invite Alicia over. I’m sure she gets lonely now that Old Brom is gone, but your aunt isn’t exactly the life of the party.”

 

******

 

          “The name of your party, sir?” The teenage hostess smiled politely at the man in front of her, grease pencil hovering over the laminated seating chart on her stand.

          “Uh, Belden, I guess.”

          “Yes sir, party of four. We’ll have that table ready in just a minute. You can wait for the rest of your party at the bar if you like.”

          _Rest of the party? Table of four?_

Liam had a sinking feeling that he had misunderstood Trixie’s invitation. He looked down at the bouquet of pink peonies he was clutching and his face went red. Yeah, there was a chance he was about to make an ass out of himself.

          “Why Liam, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

          He turned and found a smile, “Hello Marge.”

          “What gorgeous flowers! Someone is very lucky. You didn’t say a word about having a date when I saw you earlier.”

          “Well, uh-“

          “I’m here to meet Dan and Trixie…isn’t that sweet? Inviting an old lady like me to join them for dinner?”

          Shit.

          “Sweet.” He cleared his throat and tried again, “I-“

          “Regan! Ms. Trask! Sorry we’re late, the light at the Tatham-Kenny Parkway is slow as molasses.”

          There was a flurry of greetings, before they were shown to their table, in the alcove overlooking the Hudson river. The hostess handed them menus, advised them about the specials, and they were alone.

          “Isn’t this nice?” Trixie beamed around the table at them, “Dan and I thought it would be good to have a meal altogether instead of staying home, or going out by ourselves to one of those rose-petal covered restaurants full of couples.”

          “An excellent idea, Trixie; I’m pleased to note there isn’t one single balloon or shiny paper cupid anywhere in sight.” Marge smiled at the younger woman, “Oh, speaking of flowers, I believe Liam has something for our hostess.”

          Hellfire and damnation. He had been holding the flowers half below the level of the table, hoping no one would notice them. They were all looking at him now, however, so he pulled them up, with what he hoped looked like a flourish, as if he had been hiding them as a surprise, and extended them across the table, to Trixie. She looked delighted; her face soft, she took the flowers and then smiled at him, “Peonies, my favorite…thank you, Regan. How on earth did you know? And how did you find these? They’re out of season.”

          “I…asked around.” Never mind how long it had taken him to find a florist that carried them this time of year. Never mind too, that he had driven into White Plains for them.

          “They must have been expensive,” Dan commented absentmindedly, looking around for the waiter.

          Ridiculously expensive. “Not that bad.” He swallowed uncomfortably and wished the goddamned waiter would show up, he could use a drink right about now. Not to mention a distraction.

          Marge admired the flowers, “Peonies, in the old language of flowers, are an expression of bashfulness. Not exactly a quality I associate with Trixie Belden.” They all chuckled. “Giving them used to be an invitation to be considered, like shouting ‘take notice of me!’”

          Would the earth not open up and swallow him whole? Where was a good sinkhole when you needed one? He felt his face heating up and prayed that he wasn’t blushing as badly as he suspected. Right now it felt like he had a sunburn.

          “I don’t need flowers to notice Regan, but these are certainly beautiful.” She smiled across the table at him and he decided maybe he didn’t need a sinkhole after all. He glanced away from Trixie before it got awkward, and encountered Marge’s thoughtful gaze.

          Despite his initial embarrassment, Liam slowly relaxed and began to enjoy himself, helped along by the, uncharacteristic for him, choice of a whiskey before they ordered appetizers. Dinner was leisurely, the food great and the conversation first rate, and by the time they had pushed away their dinner plates and the waiter returned with dessert menus, he felt close to his normal self.

          “I was promised that they do a divine turtle cheesecake, and my mouth has been watering for it ever since,” Marge commented, without looking at her menu. Trixie bit her lip, trying to decide between the cheesecake and a chocolate-hazelnut crème brulee, while Dan quickly scanned the menu and then ordered the cheesecake, “You gonna have the same?” he asked his uncle.

          “Regan doesn’t like soft desserts,” Trixie said, without looking up from her menu. They all looked at her in surprise, and after a minute, Dan asked, “How on earth do you know that?”

          “Hm? Oh, dinner at the Manor House…he always passes up pudding and tiramisu and cheesecake and stuff. He likes pecan pie, and fudge, and he loves Cook’s cashew brittle. But the only soft dessert he likes is ice cream.”

          _I’ll be damned_ , he thought, impressed and touched, _I didn’t realize she paid that much attention._ The equilibrium which time and alcohol had wrought deserted him, and he gazed at her as she wavered over her dessert choice, unaware of the tender look on his face. He forgot to participate in the conversation, and he was unaware that Margery Trask had seen his naked emotions painted on his face, open to interpretation by anyone who took the time to look.


	4. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is coming home, and someone else is pining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these guys. I hope any readers are enjoying the story. As always, I don't own the rights to the gang, I just like to play with 'em and have fun.

March  
TO: tbelden@sleepysidepd.gov, mwheeler@campbellelementary.edu  
FROM: colormepurple@me.net  
SUBJECT: Homecoming  
Attachments   
Hey girls, this won’t be a long email, I just wanted to let you know that I’m coming home…Arizona has been great, Uncle Monty has been great, the weather has been great. But I miss Sleepyside. I feel like I’ve been running for years and I’m tired and ready to come back.  
I don’t know what I’ll do with myself when I get there, but Mommy assures me there’s always a room for me at the house. I think she’s afraid to tell me how much they’ve missed me, in case I change my mind, hahaha. I really have missed them all though, the twins and even Harrison, lolz.  
So I’m shaking the dust of Arizona- and Australia, and Thailand…and Hawaii…and…well, I’m shaking the dust off my feet and coming back. To stay, this time, I think.  
I should be home in about six weeks, I’ve got a few obligations here to tie up, then I’m roadtripping it home with one of the ranch hands, who is coming East to go back to school. I’m beyond excited to see you bitches again! Let’s plan a party like the good old days, yeah? A real Bob-White bash!  
Oh…and PS, I sent you pix of the wedding, Uncle Monty hasn’t changed, but Mrs. Franklin’s—sorry, Aunt Nora’s dress is a trip! It has like 60 yards of handmade lace, or something crazy like that!!!!!!!!!!  
<3 Di

******

“I haven’t seen much of you lately,” Liam commented, taking a fresh beer from the waitress and handing her a tip. Dan watched her ass—clad in tight jeans—as she left, then shrugged, he was here to celebrate his uncle’s thirty-fourth birthday, not pick up waitresses, no matter how nicely they filled out their jeans.  
“I picked up a few extra shifts, to help cover the cost of repairs to my Jeep. Every time I turned around, Lester was calling to tell me they found something else wrong. If I didn’t know he was so honest—and that he’s scared of me because I carry a gun—I might have thought he was scamming me. But the Jeep’s in good running order, at least for now.”  
“That’s good, you paid enough for it.” Liam took a sip of his beer and glanced around the bar, Kathleen’s was as close to a family bar as you could get. They served beer and bar food, had a couple of booths, a couple of tables, a jukebox, a few arcade games and, the reason for their visit, had some of the nicest pool tables around town. “Tom just called, said he was running late but should be here in about twenty. Any word from Brian?”  
“He texted, he had to shower after work, but he’s on his way,” Dan took a pull on his beer.   
“Drink up, and I’ll show you how to play pool,” Liam said, grinning over his beer bottle.  
“Ha! I’ve forgotten more about pool than you’ve ever known,” Dan said good naturedly.   
Liam was choosing a cue when he saw them. The lights of a Budweiser sign turned Trixie’s hair red and blue, but she was unmistakable. He didn’t recognize the guy she was with, but even in the low lights of the bar, he could see that he was young and good-looking. He leaned across the table towards Trixie, his biceps straining the sleeves of the black t-shirt he wore. He was grinning at her, and she was talking animatedly, her face open and smiling; clearly they knew one another well.   
Dan joined him, “Table’s paid for an hour, and I ordered some nachos and some wings, I wasn’t able to grab lunch and I’m starving. Hope you picked a great stick, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”  
His uncle wasn’t listening, “Who’s that over there with Trixie?”  
“Where- oh, that’s Darius Jackson, he works graveyards at the station. They went through the Academy together.”  
That might explain why they looked so comfortable in one another’s company.  
“I didn’t realize she was dating anyone,” he knew he failed miserably at sounding casual, he just hoped that Dan hadn’t noticed.  
“Dating a fellow cop is strictly against departmental rules.”  
“I’m sure people break those rules all the time.”  
“Not Trix.”  
That was true. She was very proud of being part of the police force, she wouldn’t jeopardize that. Not even for a guy with biceps the size of cannonballs.  
“We should ask them to join us.”  
“Dan, I’m sure Trixie has-“  
Dan’s wolf whistle pieced his uncle’s ear drums and made every head in the place turn, including Trixie’s. She looked around, then caught sight of them and grinned happily, giving them a wave. “Come play a game!” Dan invited, mostly miming. Trixie replied, with lots of mouthing and enthusiasm and hand gestures, but her meaning was unclear. Dan waved a dismissive hand, “Eh, they’ll come over here if they want…so, we playing, or what?”

******

Helen put a plate of lasagna and salad in front of her husband, and sat down next to him. Bobby was at a friend’s house and it was just the two of them. It had been very hard adjusting to going from a noisy houseful of kids, to just Trixie and Bobby; when Trixie finished college she had moved back in while she was in the Academy, but she was gone so often it was like having just Bobby home. Now their daughter lived in town, and their youngest son was a high school senior, about to graduate in a few months, and it would be just the two of them.  
It was bittersweet and a little scary, the prospect of being Helen and Peter, instead of Moms and Dad…it hadn’t been that way in nearly thirty years.   
“Excellent dinner, as always, sweetheart.” Peter took a bite of lasagna and made appreciative noises.  
She couldn’t help but laugh, “I defrosted the leftover lasagna from last week. I can’t seem to adjust to not having to feed an army anymore, the freezer is bulging.”  
“Well your cooking is so good that even your leftovers are superior.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, but sobered when he noticed her wistful expression.  
“I miss the kids, too, Helen. But we can’t keep them here forever. And I must say, I’m glad to hear you’ve got to cook less, since there are more leftovers. How’s the painting coming?”  
“Well, I think. Of course, it’s been so long since I took a class, and I don’t have anyone to vet my work. I could be fooling myself, it could be awful.”  
“Impossible!” Her husband leaned over and kissed her, “Like all our children, you have tremendous talent. Think what gorgeous scenery you’ll be inspired by soon.”  
“I just don’t know how we’re going to tell them.”

******

“The problem, cat, is that I’ve known her forever. Logically I know she’s a grown woman, but I watched her grow up and I feel a little pervy thinking about dating her, like she’s a teenager still. But then I look at her, she’s turned into such a beauty and I am fully aware she is an adult.”  
The cat, really quite ugly, and clearly unconcerned with physical beauty, lounged on the bale of hay opposite Liam, who sat repairing a frayed horse blanket.   
“The other problem is that I can’t stop thinking about dating her.”  
The cat’s eyes, a murky yellow, were slitted, and he lazily twitched his tail, thinking cat thoughts. Romance may or may not have entered into them.  
“I’m not sure how she would feel about the idea of dating me, Creature. In the grand scheme of things, I’m not that much older than her, but I don’t think she’s realized we’re both adults now. For cripes’ sake, she still calls me Regan, not Liam.”  
Creature hadn’t had a name before he arrived here, and he didn’t concern himself with the names of others.  
“But sometimes, just for a moment here or there, I think she feels something too. She gets--awkward, and I think she feels that sexual awareness too.”  
A surgery had taken care of the cat’s sexual awareness. Now he contented himself with potted shrimp and naps in the sun.  
“I risk ruining a very, very special friendship if I cross that line and ask her out. I could really cock things up.”  
Creature closed his eyes.

******

“Florida? You’re moving to Florida?” Trixie was stunned, across the table her eyes met Brian’s, and she saw the exact same look on his face. They were reeling from shock. Under the pine table, around which generations of Beldens had gathered, Honey squeezed Brian’s hand, and across the surface, littered with the remnants of a Belden family Sunday dinner, she sent Trixie a sympathetic look.  
The only one who didn’t seem upset was Bobby—who had recently asked to be called Rob, a request which no one seemed capable of remembering—who grinned at his parents. “Whoa! Florida, that’s where old people go to retire.”  
Peter looked pained, “Thanks, son.”  
“Naw, y’know what I mean. You two aren’t old enough to retire.”  
“Thanks for that. But I’ve had a job since I was fifteen and before that I worked here on the farm. I’m eligible for early retirement, my investment portfolios are doing well, and your mother and I found a nice little condo where we think we’ll be very happy. We hope you kids will be happy for us.” He accented his words and gave the kids a look over Helen’s head, nodding at their mother, who was looking guilty and worried.  
They jumped to assure them they were thrilled. “Just surprised, that’s all,” Trixie supplied with a grin, “even my renowned detective skills didn’t see this one coming.”  
“You two deserve a great retirement,” Brian said warmly, hugging his mom and giving his father’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze, “After all the years of putting up with the four of us squabbling, the seagulls ought to sound like sweet music to your ears.”  
“Does Mart know?” Honey asked, squeezing her future mother-in-law’s hands, smiling at the woman that had always been like a second mother to her. More like the mother she had always wanted, really, a feeling which always left her faintly guilty.  
“We tried to call him twice today, but just got his voice mail. We were going to try again after you kids left. I honestly don’t know how that boy can stay so busy and not drop from exhaustion. I’ve half a mind to pay him a visit in Las Vegas.”  
“Just don’t lose all your retirement savings at the blackjack tables,” Bobby joked, helping himself to a handful of cookies. “Marines make good pay, but not that good. You’ll have to depend on Trixie and Doctor Belden here to support you.”  
Helen looked stricken, Bobby—Rob-- kept insisting that he was done with school, he had no intention of going to college, not even community college. As soon as he could, he was going to join the Marines, like his boyhood hero, Dan. She was happy to see that Peter, absorbed in talk about deep-sea fishing with Brian, hadn’t heard. He had forbidden Bobby to talk about it, asking him to think about his options until graduation. She knew in her heart that her youngest son had made up his mind and wouldn’t change it, he had been talking about joining since he was thirteen; if praying would have done any good, she would have prayed nightly for him to change his mind. But she knew from experience how stubborn he was.

******

“Can’t you get him to change his plans?” Madeleine Wheeler looked up from her copy of Women’s Wear Daily and watched her husband crack his knuckles and mutter about their adopted son. Two equally stubborn redheads, she thought with secret amusement, watching them go head to head is like seeing two charging bulls face off.  
“He has his plans, we all know about them. Hell, I admire them, I always have, Maddie, you know that. But for chrissake, he’s devoted years to his studies, he’s got a Master’s in education and a Bachelor’s in business administration…he worked in that damn school for what, two years? He’s worked for Wheeler Enterprises, he knows how to teach, he’s seen from the inside how to run a profitable business…Jim’s spent the last decade working to be ready for running his school. I’m afraid if he waits much longer he’ll never get off the ground.”  
“Maybe breaking up with, er, Nicole, is the impetus he needs to make a change. Try to talking to him when he comes down next. Aren’t the girls planning a party for Diana in a few weeks? What about then?”  
Matt brightened, and stopped pacing nervously, he dropped into the club chair across from where she was curled up on the sofa in the library, “That’s right, the party. Hmm, maybe he and Trixie will—do you know if she’s dating anyone? Has Honey said?”  
Madeleine hid a moue of annoyance behind her magazine, “I wouldn’t know dear, but if you’re thinking of trying to throw her in his path I wouldn’t recommend it. You know how unhappy he was when they ended it.”  
“I always liked her for him, Trixie has enough spirit to deal with his temper.”  
Madeleine didn’t agree, she thought the two had been heading for blow up for a while before they had broken it off, it had only been delayed because Jim was out of town at university. While Trixie was a lovely girl, she was a little too…uncouth, to be the daughter-in-law of a family like the Wheeler’s. Even if it was as the wife of an adopted son. She rather thought they dodged a bullet with that one.

******

DI LYNCH: I just remembered you’re vegetarian now, we don’t have to have a cookout like the old days!   
HONEY WHEELER: Np, there’s lots I can eat, B grills a mean veggie kabob just for me.  
DI LYNCH: Lucky girl.  
HONEY WHEELER: :-D

******

Las Vegas  
Mart Belden leaned back on the sofa in his suite, and slumped until his head rested against the cushions. Talking to his parents always left him feeling vaguely disturbed; guilt was part of it, he knew he neglected his relationship with his parents. It wasn’t that he didn’t love them, or appreciate how great they were; hell, after spending all these years in clubs and listening to other comedians perform, he was fully aware of how magical his youth had been.  
They had raised him, and his brothers and sister, in a kind of bubble, protected from most of the hardships and realities that the rest of the world faced. The life he lived now was so different from the simpler life he had known back in sleepy little Sleepyside, living on the Farm, swimming in the lake, running loose in the Preserve with the Bob-Whites like some kind of latter day Lost Boys. It was hard to find things to share with them when he called…and when he visited? Forget it. He’d be longing to see them, show up laden with gifts and in a few days he’d be finding excuses to leave early. He just didn’t have anything to talk to them about, nothing in common anymore.  
It was especially hard finding common ground with Brian, growing up, he and his older brother had mostly gotten along, he fought more with Trixie than he did with Brian. They didn’t even fight now, although Brian lectured him even more than dad. It was pretty laughable, his brother was about six months shy of his thirtieth birthday, and he acted like an old man. He lived in the town he was born in, was the kindly town doctor, having dinner with his parents every Sunday, drove a sensible family car, and he was even going to marry the girl next door, for chrissakes! Brian was so sensible he had broken up with his childhood sweetheart to focus on medical school, yet he had still gotten the girl in the end.  
No one would ever be able to imagine in a million years that Brian would do something like Mart had; drop out of school, leave home, rub elbows with some of the funniest, most foul-mouthed men and women in comedy…father a child with a complete stranger.  
Mart was unaware that he was smiling. Justin was one of the greatest things that had happened to him, although he wouldn’t have agreed with that just a few years ago, finding out from out of the blue like that that he was the father of a four-year old. But now he was a dad, maybe not as good as his own, but he tried. He owed the little guy a call, but it would have to wait, he knew his set started soon, and he needed to take a leak, and then head downstairs. Where the hell was Charlie? His assistant had gone downstairs ages ago to sort out some problem at the front desk, but he should be here by now. He didn’t like going downstairs without his PA to run interference if he encountered any fans.  
As if summoned, Charlie let himself into the suite, talking before the door was even open, -“got it all straightened out with that blonde cow at the front desk, I told her you’re headlining in their club, the least they can do is comp your mini-bar. Fuck, what’ll it cost ‘em to cover your bills for vodka and macadamia nuts for a few weeks? That’s peanuts to them—haha, or better yet, macadamia nuts to them! Ha! Ha! Got the dry cleaning” –holding up a multitude of plastic sheathed garments slung over his shoulder—“tipped the concierge to make sure they have some Cristal waiting after the show, and got a couple of numbers of some very fine girls…they’d love to party tonight“—hanging up the dry cleaning, Charlie waggled his phone at Mart—“first crack goes to you, of course, but dibs on the one with pink hair, oh hey, that reminds me, I opened your mail, your mom sent you a thank you for the chocolates, the card is in a pink envelope, on the desk”—a quick check in the mirror, smoothing his hair—“c’mon, buddy, let’s hustle, show time in thirty”—and still talking, he accompanied Mart down in the glass and chrome elevator, through the marble lobby—smoothly handling the aforementioned young women when they rushed up, tiny dresses, sky-high heels and gleaming collagen-plumped lips trumpeting their availability—and down the long corridor behind the scenes, where he kept talking as they entered the green room, talking as Mart was in the makeup chair and talking right up until he handed Mart a bottle of Fuji water just before he walked on stage, patted him on the back and stage-whispered, “Get ‘er done, man!”  
There had been a time when Mart didn’t need someone to run his errands and deal with the public for him. He used to help run the Farm, like a full-grown man, and part of the reason they had formed the Bob-Whites was to help other people. But there was a certain expectation when you got to be as well-known as he was, and his schedule could be grueling, so having someone to deal with the petty details was a fucking blessing, not to mention there had been one or two truly alarming incidents with fans and hecklers, in the early days, before Charlie.  
Problem was, Mart sometimes got so sick of hearing Charlie’s incessant chatter in his fake, quasi-good-old-boy frat boy manner that he wanted to tape his mouth shut. He couldn’t kick him out, the guy had been so loyal, coming to the clubs in the early, early days, helping with his website, filming stuff to show agents. They’d lost touch for a year or two, then one day Charlie had shown up backstage to congratulate him on what was admittedly a fucking great show, and he’d started showing up at more of his shows and before Mart realized it, he had a personal assistant. He was helpful, he really was, Mart couldn’t deny that, but some days he was too much to take, and Mart longed for the quiet, steady friendship of Jim and Dan.  
Jeez, Jim and Dan. Like his brother, they were two of the most true-blue, stand up guys you would ever meet. A former gang member, Dan had a dark edge to him, a past he never really revealed in one act, but let slip in tantalizing glimpses behind the curtain. But say what you might about his past, he had changed when he moved to Sleepyside, becoming a hard-working student and loyal friend. Or maybe he had always been those things, and his time in the gang was a blip in an otherwise steady trajectory. Looking at him now…former Marine, current police officer, living in a small town, paling around with his sister…you would think he was the one raised by Peter and Helen Belden.  
Jim was another success story; lost his father when he was young, survived an abusive step-father, ran away and then fell right into the lap of luxury when the Wheeler’s adopted him. If anyone ever wanted to know what “straight as an arrow” meant, show them James Winthrop Frayne, II. Honor student, Salutatorian (Brian was Valedictorian, natch), double majors, inner-city school teacher, junior exec in a multi-billion dollar company and, until recently, engaged to a school teacher who looked like his sister if his sister had been fed on marzipan and raised by the Keebler Elves. Actually it was a fucking relief to know Jim had avoided marriage to Nicole; Mart had only met her a few times, but she was slightly terrifying for all her pink-cheeked, wide-eyed sweetness. She was definite trouble, that one, far too much for ol’ Jim. He kept expecting her to snap, like that chick in Gone Girl.  
After the show, drained but pumped, sweating and slightly exultant, Mart cleaned up in his dressing room while downing two bottles of water. Crossing the lobby toward the exit, discussing where to go for dinner—Charlie buzzing in his ear like a fly—Mart saw the pink-haired girl and her bottle-blond but luscious friend approaching, invitation in their smiles and predation in their eyes. Speaking of trouble…

******

“…so yeah, like I said, these two uh, can I say Black? Is that okay, or is it African American? Anyway, these two guys, these two Black African Americans, I’m pretty sure they’re the ones that robbed us last month. Here they come, buyin’ candy and gas and shit like they didn’t hold me up at gun point-“  
“Travis, I seem to recall that when we were in here taking your report on the 20th you stated that, and I quote “I couldn’t see their faces, they was wearing masks, like the ski kind, only black.””  
Travis looked affronted at being interrupted, and that Trixie was quoting his own words back at him. He frowned at the clipboard she had just referenced, “Well, yeah, but di’n’t it also say somethin’ in there about what else I told you? Which was that I’d know ‘em if I saw ‘em again. And I know it was them, I could feel it, when they walked in the door.”  
“Feelings aren’t enough, do you have some other reason to believe this was the two men who robbed you on the 20th? Scars, tattoos, were they wearing the same clothes? Perhaps you recognized their voices.” Jenni interjected, sounding neutral and terribly brisk. Trixie was constantly impressed by her new partner. She herself was like a bloodhound when it came to mysteries, and she was very observant and detail oriented, but Jenni was like a laser pointer, very focused, and she circled in on the relevant details without fuss.  
“Naw, they weren’t wearing the same clothes. Before they were all dressed up like SWAT guys-“  
Jenni and Trixie both looked up, “What? There was no mention of that description the first time we interviewed you.”  
“Originally you said they were dressed in black, you didn’t mention riot gear or helmets or bulletproof vests.” Trixie tried to remain calm and project an air of objective professionalism, but she felt like strangling him with his ratty little mullet.  
“Well, I dunno nothin’ ‘bout riot gear or anything, but they looked like those SWAT guys on TV, the ones that swing down elevators and kick in hotel windows and shit,” Travis demonstrated the prowess of the TV guys, executing an awkward karate kick and juking from left to right, apparently holding a gun on suspected bad guys, “I know it was them, though, they smelled the same.”  
“What did they smell like?” Jenni asked, looking at him in fascination.  
“I dunno, like, this weird chemical smell, but kinda fishy too. I wrote down their plate number when they left earlier, you need to go find them and arrest them! I bet if you search their houses you’ll find the lottery tickets and cell phones they took, and the cartons’a cigarettes.”  
“Unfortunately, we need eye-witness testimony, or evidence, placing them at the scene of the crime, and your feeling that it was them and …that they, er, smelled the same, isn’t enough to go on to arrest these men, or to get a search warrant to search their homes.” Trixie held up a hand, halting the hot retort trembling on Travis’s lips, “We’ll check out the information you gave us, and if you think of anything else, here’s my card.”  
“If they come back and kill me for knowing too much, you’ll be sorry!” Travis yelled after them as they walked out of the door. His voice trembled with false bravado.  
Jenni turned at the door, and merely warned him not to try to apprehend the suspects if they returned.  
Outside, they stopped to zip up their jackets, and pull on gloves, as a damp, mean wind was blowing, whipping around the seedy convenience store on the lonely edge of town. One of Trixie’s favorite things about being promoted to Detective, was that she was allowed to wear street clothes, but during the winter she favored her heavy, department-issued coat, with the Sleepyside PD logo on the left sleeve, the American flag on the right sleeve and on the left breast, the seal of the City under her embroidered name DET. T. BELDEN and the words SLEEPYSIDE POLICE DEPT. Not only was it incredibly warm, and waterproof to boot, but it leant her an air of authority, which both she and Jenni needed, as a lot of people tended to take two young, petite blondes a lot less seriously than, say, their towering male counterparts.  
“What a dillhole,” Jenni said, rolling her eyes back at the store, where Travis was still watching them through the glass, thin arms wrapped around his torso, peering past the faded, peeling posters for cigarettes, energy drinks and HO-MADE SAUSAGE. She caught sight of the last one and snorted, “This place is pretty icky.”  
“I’ve filled up for gas a time or two, but yeah, I’d only use the restroom in a real emergency, and I would definitely never try the ho-made sausage.” Trixie fished a stick of cinnamon gum out of the pack in her pocket, silently extending it to her partner, who accepted equally silently. They chewed for a few minutes in peaceful accord, as they looked around, assessing the dirty, oil-stained apron of the gas station, the leaning power lines, the straggling trees, the silence.  
“Last month you said we get called out here pretty regularly for robberies, I guess this place is a good target, isolated, too outmoded even to have working security cameras…but I would think the isolation would be a deterrent to most perps. I mean, not a lot of traffic, so any vehicle driving up here must be fairly memorable to whoever’s working. Plus there isn’t a lot of cover, the trees are fairly thin along the roads, few cross streets to duck into, not a lot of traffic to get lost in.”  
“True, but there’s a good chance a lot of them are in a hot car, or park around back, or come on foot.”  
“On foot?”  
Trixie walked to the east end of the building, and pointed, “You see that strand of trees just over to the left of the dirt road? Just out of sight is a pretty run down old trailer park, a lot of trouble out that way. When the welfare checks are running out, there’s a jump in the shoplifting and robberies at this place.” She rolled expressive eyes at her partner, “Of course, most of those are impulse jobs, poorly planned, no weapons, smash and grab basically.”  
“Buy a one dollar lottery ticket, give the clerk a five and when he has the drawer open, snatch and run?”  
“You got it. Je-sus, it’s freezing out here, let’s get in the car, take a little drive over to the trailer park.”  
“Yeah, I’d like to pay a friendly little visit to the neighbors…you know, introduce myself, as the new girl in town. And while we’re there, if we ask about the two Black-African-Americans our twitchy little friend saw, why then—say, what’s with him, is he a tweaker?”  
“Nah, I don’t think so. Weed, yeah, I’d bet on it, maybe even a little Xanax every once in a while, but we’ve never had any serious trouble with him. He was a few classes ahead of my brother Brian; basically he’s just a low-level loser who partied too much, dropped out of school, and is stuck working the same dead-end job he had in high school.”  
They were almost to their unmarked Dodge Charger when a truck horn honked a few times in a friendly fashion, and they stopped to watch a black Ford F-150 indicate a left turn, cross Hawkin’s Ferry Road, and pull in next to them. The driver’s side window rolled down and Jenni watched with interest as the driver smiled familiarly at her partner. She had never particularly been attracted to redheads—dark guys were more her thing—but Jenni had to admit there was a quiet sexiness to the man Trixie was talking to.   
“Yeah, poor Creature was all scratched up, and his ear wouldn’t stop bleeding, so I just took him to Doc Moriarty’s and let her check him out. They’re going to keep him overnight and make sure his ear doesn’t open up again.”  
“Poor baby! I’m sure he must be proud to have killed six rats though.”  
“It was a cold winter, and Jack isn’t as vigilant about closing the feed stores up as I’d like, I think they got bold.”  
“Yuck. I’m glad for my three, living in an old house the way I do.” Trixie caught herself, “Gosh, Jenni, I’m sorry, I just realized I haven’t introduced you! This is Regan, Liam Regan, a very dear old friend of mine.” She smiled up at him, “This is my new partner I was telling you about at dinner on Valentine’s, Jenni de Vries.”  
“Nice to meet you, Jenni. Trixie had nothing but good to say about you. Welcome to Sleepyside, I hope we’ve made a good impression so far.”  
“Thanks, it’s nice to meet you too, and yeah, so far I have to say, I’m liking it here. I thought it might be too quiet after White Plains, but it seems like there’s always something going on.”  
“If you ever get bored, just stick with Trixie, she’s always turning up adventures,” he winked, smiling at the little blonde standing on the running board of his big truck, her left arm looped over the open window. His gaze was openly affectionate, and Jenni felt a little residual heat when he turned his smile on her, mercy. “I apologize, ladies, but I have to get back to work. I’ll let you get back to keeping the good folks of Sleepyside safe.” They waved him off and he beeped his horn in farewell.  
“Wowza,” Jenni said, pretending to fan herself, “Your boyfriend is smoking.”  
“Ha! Regan is not my boyfriend, but yeah, I know, he’s gorgeous, right?”  
“Oh, sorry, you two just seemed so…close, and I thought—“ actually what she had thought was that they seemed intimate, and that she could have cut the sexual atmosphere with a knife, but that seemed inappropriate to verbalize, now that it appeared she had the wrong end of the stick entirely. “Yeah, he is gorgeous. Does he have the body to match? He looks like he could pose for one of those racy calendars, maybe as a cowboy.” She saw the pink creeping up on her partner’s face and couldn’t help laughing, “What? What does that look mean? Have you seen him naked?”  
“NO! I have not,” Trixie’s voice was composed, but her face was bright red and it looked like she was trying to control the corners of her mouth from turning up. Finally a smile burst through and she grinned at Jenni, “I have, however, seen him in running short, and girrrrrrrl, that man has the ass of a Greek god, and you could crack walnuts with those thighs!”

******

Six months until the wedding. Six months until the originally intimate, now slightly out of control wedding was to take place at her girlhood home with her dearest friends and two hundred of her mother’s closest frenemies gathered to witness her marriage to Brian. Brian, Brian was the important part, that’s what she needed to focus on. Not the three unread emails from her mother’s society wedding planner, nor the unreturned calls from her mother that were making her want to pull her hair out. That was if stress didn’t cause it to fall out first. Honey smacked herself in the forehead, as if she could rattle her brain into caring more deeply about what was starting to feel an awful lot like her mother’s dream wedding.  
“Focus on Brian, focus on Brian. Six more months until you’re his wife. You can get through half a year, easy.” Honey whispered softly as she looked out over her class of kindergarten students, who were whispering, squirming, farting and in some cases, actually napping as they were supposed to. Another seven minutes and she could let them put away the gym mats in the classroom closet, and gather at their tables and have juice and animal crackers while she read them a story and had them name the colors and the animals.  
That was another seven minutes to think about how she wished they had eloped to Vegas.

******

A few days later, Liam parked his truck along the curb in front of Trixie’s rented bungalow on Baker Street, and walked up the narrow concrete walkway that bisected the small front yard. He resisted the urge to wipe his hands nervously on his jeans. He was thirty-four years old, he had dated women before, this was Trixie, not some blind pick up in a bar.  
Exactly, this was Trixie. Not some blind pick up in a bar, where it wouldn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things if she turned him down. This had the potential to be devastating.  
He mounted the small front porch and knocked on the glass storm door, then cracked his knuckles. A minute went by, but he didn’t hear anything; her Subaru was in the driveway that ran along the side of the house, he was pretty sure she was home. He knocked again, a little hesitantly, feeling uneasy. Maybe this was a sign that he should call this whole thing off. No, he had to do this or else he should just give up the idea for good.  
Slowly he reached out and pushed the doorbell. An eternity passed between the high and low chimes sounding.  
At seventeen, Liam Regan is tall and rangy, taller than pretty much every other teenager he meets, and he is constantly outgrowing his shoes. He writes his name in his clothes, so that his property is clearly marked, it can’t get “mistaken” as belonging to one of the other foster kids. When he moves to a new foster home, and there’s always a new foster home, he carries all his worldly goods in a black plastic trash bag.  
He has never been on a date before, even if he weren’t slightly untouchable for getting in so many fights, he is too shy to approach girls. But he is approaching one now, his classmate Amy, who is pretty, very pretty, but in a quiet way, not like the more popular girls. He likes her partly because, during a field trip to the State Fair, she had cuddled a rabbit at the petting zoo, rubbing her chin over its soft fur and cooing to it. She is tender, and he longs for tenderness.  
He would prefer it if she were alone, but she is standing in front of her locker, after school, with a few friends, laughing about something. He has to go to her, he’s tried four times already, if he doesn’t just do it, he’s a total pussy, and he can’t stand that.  
“Hey Amy, I’m Liam? I sit behind you in earth science?”  
She looks bemused, her head slightly cocked, “Yeah?”  
“I, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to maybe go to the Homecoming Dance with me? I know it’s kinda short notice, but-“  
She giggles.  
Anything else he might have said is frozen in his throat. He just stands there staring at her, feeling ten feet tall, with hands and feet the size of cars.  
“Um, no. Thanks. Um, no.” She giggles again, and her two girlfriends giggle too, laughter apparently contagious in teenage girls. The boy, he thinks his name is David, smirks, “This is where you leave. She said no,” Maybe-David glances at the girls for approval of how he is handling this, whispers, “Freak.” He speaks as if Liam is retarded, and he can feel his temper start to rise, swamping his humiliation and disappointment. Unbidden, his too-big hands curl into fists, his nails digging painfully into his palms, slight hurts in comparison to the bigger one of having her witness this asshole treat him like trash, like something that belongs in a black plastic trash bag.   
The other boy turns to face, him, brave in the face of their approval, thinking there is safety in numbers, or maybe just too stupid to know he’s waving a red flag in front of an injured bull.  
“She. Said. No. Get it, you big weird motherfucker?”  
The door opens as the last chime fades into silence, its passage through the air vibrating the molecules ever so slightly. Liam blinks in momentary confusion, so caught up in that old, half-forgotten memory, that for just a moment he is perplexed to see Trixie standing in front of him.  
“Oh, hey! Regan, hi,” she greets him cheerfully, but seems distracted, glancing back over her shoulder. He has a crushing feeling that she may have company, she seems frazzled, and a little sweaty, and he tries to find an alternate reason for his visit, because he can’t do this now.  
“Hey, is this a bad time? I can come back if this is a bad time. Really, no problem-“  
“No, no, it’s fine, sorry, I was just in the middle of cleaning and I didn’t hear the door at first.” She is holding the door open, stepping back, but he can already tell this isn’t the time.  
“Let me just let you go-“  
“God, no, sorry! Please, come in, I’m delighted to see you, you never come over. Excuse my place, like I said, I’m cleaning and it looks like-“  
There is a loud and plaintive meow, and she looks pained, then smiles, “Please, come in, give me just a minute and I’ll-“  
There is a second, louder, still more moody meow. He can’t help but feel his lips twitch, she meets his eye and grins, her company smile relaxing into familiar lines. He starts to step over the threshold, when there is a crashing thump, followed by the sound of a whole lot of …something…small rolling across the floor. Trixie is fixed in place, her face reflecting horror. She obviously knows what this is and he watches her face go red with temper, and she turns and yells into the house, “You rotten cat! I was about to put fresh litter in! There are TWO other litter boxes in this house, you know! You don’t have to use just the one!”   
“I’m just going to-“  
“Yes, thank you.”  
The door closes and he’s left alone. This wasn’t quite how he pictured it.


	5. Adulting is Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homecoming! Horse-back riding! Wedding planning and more!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A certain purple-eyed beauty is coming home, Regan tries to get alone with Trixie, and Honey and Brian experience the joys of being adults.

_April_

Dan had a lot of respect for women; his own mom had been a teen pregnancy statistic, who lucked into meeting his “dad,” Johnny Mangan, when Dan was four. They married when Dan was seven, and he was adopted by the man who set out to help raise him, but who was killed by a crosstown bus when Dan was thirteen. But before Johnny, and after him too, his mom had raised him on her own, albeit with the help of friends, neighbors, shelters, state assistance and a lot of hard work.

          She had been fiercely independent, and outspoken, especially when it came to any type of injustice, particularly when people took advantage of women or the poor, of which there were many in their neighborhood. Tessie Mangan didn’t hesitate to smack him one when she found him acting “like a boy.” He was punished for picking on girls, for calling them names, and when he once made the mistake of telling his mom, “But Nick Thompson said it to me until Dad taught me how to swing,” to explain why he told a neighbor boy he hit ball like a girl, he had gotten a hiding and she made him write an essay on why it was wrong to stereotype…a concept he didn’t quite grasp in its entirety, since he was nine at the time.

          Then of course, there were Trixie, Honey and Di, any one of whom wouldn’t have hesitated to cut his balls off, metaphorically at least, for being a Neanderthal. They had been a lot sweeter and a lot more naïve when they were younger, and he had seen Jim and Mart especially get away with behavior that would have put them on the girls’ bad side now. He personally liked to tease them, particularly Trixie, since she could give as good as she got, but he liked to think he was pretty evolved.  He even had a THIS IS WHAT A FEMINIST LOOKS LIKE shirt to prove it.

          What he tended to forget was that a lot of people, people who didn’t know him as well as Trixie did, could get the wrong impression. Maybe he played the field a little too much, but he was always up front with the women he dated, and if they ignored his warning that he wasn’t ready to settle down, and they insisted on making noises about engagements and started dropping hints about their ring size, he extricated himself as gracefully as he could, and he moved on.

          But he liked women, and he was certainly no saint; celibacy didn’t agree with him. As long as everyone was having a good time, he figured he might as well date until he found the right woman, if there was such a thing.

          There had been a few dates since Jasmine, but he hadn’t seen anyone more than twice, and he was wondering if he had dated all the available women in Sleepyside—wouldn’t Trix have a field day with that—when he took a second look at Jenni. Of course, it wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed she was a cutie when they met, bulky winter jacket not withstanding; however, he didn’t really consider her eligible, since they were co-workers and all.

          What made him look twice was the previous Sunday, when he ran into her while he was ordering a pizza to go at Luca’s, and spied her sitting alone at a booth in the back corner, reading, her face absorbed in the glow of her tablet. Her hair was loose, and she was wearing a very soft looking lavender sweater that had slipped a little over her left shoulder, baring the silky strap of a fragile looking undergarment. Sue him for having his fair share of male coding, but he noticed and he liked what he saw. Casually sexy, not obvious, and she read. Of course, she could be reading a wedding magazine for all he knew, but he had picked up that she was currently single, and she didn’t seem the type to read about and plan for a wedding to a non-existent man.

          Inviting himself to sit with her, he swung easily into conversation with her, although she seemed a little reserved, maybe not as friendly as she was at work. He wondered about it, but he thought maybe she was just too polite to tell him he was interrupting her reading. He asked her what she was reading and thought she might have blushed slightly, “ _Written in My Own Heart’s Blood_ ,” she answered a little reluctantly.

          “Why does that sound familiar?” Mused Dan, which seemed to cause her a little amusement. He grinned at her, “Is it erotica? Is that why you didn’t want to tell me?”

          “ _No_ , it’s not erotica. It’s part of the _Outlander_ series…this is the most recent book. It’s already a few years old, but I just got into the series recently and I’m on the last book. It takes her a few years to write each one—they’re incredibly well researched—and I’m trying to make this one last.”

          “ _Outlander_ …that show on TV, is that the same thing?” At her nod, “Maybe that’s why your book sounded familiar, Trixie bangs on about that show. She’s read all the books…I guess I saw it laying around or something. I’m more of a military history kind of guy, or something fast paced and with a mystery, y’know, James Patterson, or Dean Koontz. I like Janet Evanovich, too.” She is clearly surprised by that last one, and her attitude is a lot warmer. He hopes his pizza takes a while.

          “You two hang out a lot, huh?”

          “She’s one of my oldest friends, we’re in and out of each other’s places all the time. Usually at her place, it’s nicer than mine. I don’t know if she told you, but I share an apartment with her brother, and between the two of us, we work about ninety-six hours a week, so we don’t clean much. Mrs. Belden’s heart would break if she could see what it looks like right now.”

          “Trixie told me she puts Martha Stewart to shame,”

          “She’s better…her pie crusts may not always have perfectly shaped fall leaves on them, and sometimes her house smells like dog instead of furniture polish, but she is the warmest woman you will ever meet. Hands down one of my top favorite people ever. Trixie’s a lot like her, well, she’s warm and loveable, but not so into the cooking and cleaning. If Helen Belden hadn’t decided to stay home and raise four kids and almost single-handedly run a farm, she’d be ruling the world by now.”

          He is pretty sure he isn’t misinterpreting her look as surprise and speculation; at this point she may be reevaluating her opinion of him slightly. Used to it, Dan grins at her comfortably, and steals one of the pepperoni off the last slice on her plate.

          Thankfully, his pizza takes forever.

          Then two days later she came to volunteer at the animal shelter—Trixie’s doing if he knows anything about it, and he does—and Wanda Stevens hands her over to him, telling Jenni comfortably, “You’ll be in great hands, Dan is one of our most passionate volunteers, he’s here quite often. Oh, you two know each other, that’s nice. Dan, I’ll let you show Jenni around, give her the tour, explain what we need her to do.”

          “You like Stephanie Plum _and_ you volunteer at the no-kill shelter?” Jenni shakes her head and tries to hide her smile, but she can’t do anything about the softening in her eyes. Dan suspects he may be climbing a little higher in her estimation.

          Two hours, and six walked dogs, later, he knows he is, when she hesitantly asks him if he wants to join her for lunch at Wimpy’s.

          In love he’s not, but Jenni de Vries is definitely worth a second glance.

 

******

 

          “- _of course_ , fondant is _very_ in right now, and it _does_ lend itself to _fantabulous_ design possibilities, but there’s a trend toward a _luscious buttercream_ and décor _au naturel_ …think fresh flowers, sea shells—though maybe not at a September wedding in the country—or we could do pearls. _Ooh_! Vintage brooches are very in! I bet Mother-of-the-Bride has some _looooovely_ pieces she could lend us. But really, you can’t go wrong with both! We could do a rustic-chic bridal shower cake accented with wildflowers, perfect for a casual day at the Petit Trianon! Then go BIG on the wedding day, with a six layer _piece de resistance_ , covered in vellum-colored fondant, wound with ropes of pearls and accented with gold _fleur-de-lis_ , that could have graced the king’s table at _Versailles_.”

          Honey can’t help but wonder if the thin, fashionably dressed female wedding planner, who has been speaking in an unnaturally high-pitched, eager tone, and is using unnecessary italics, is aware of how much like a camp gay man she sounds. Is she trying to be ironic? Or does she copy her “enthusiasm” from Project Runway contestants?

          Honey can tell that her mom is paying due deference to these suggestions, although an expression of horror flitted across her face at the thought of her museum quality Lalique, Harry Winston and Tiffany & Co. brooches ending up cheek and jowl with buttercream frosting.

          Ms. Trask is harder to read, but Honey has the impression a smile is being forcibly restrained by the middle-aged woman who has spent the last thirteen years seeing that the house of her employers is run smoothly and efficiently, while ensuring that her employer’s daughter lives as normal a life as possible. Jacque the wedding coordinator would normally never get anywhere close to Honey’s radar, but in this Ms. Trask has been overridden by the senior Madeleine Wheeler’s insistence that if her daughter _must_ have a “simple” country wedding, that it at least be worthy of a spread in the best wedding magazines and society pages. Never mind that her involvement and that of Jacque has ensured that this wedding is becoming increasingly less simple every day.

          Understandably, Honey has zoned out, and she suddenly realizes they are now debating the merits of vellum versus antique ivory as the color of the fondant. Ready to scream, she fishes her buzzing phone out of her hip pocket and makes an elaborate show of answering it, not looking at the other women, “Brian! Darling, no of course, it’s fine, I can talk-“ she heads toward the door, smiling apologetically at the trio still discussing ecru versus “newly risen cream,” and stage whispers, “Sorry, I’ve gotta take this.” Gratefully she slips out of the room and dashes upstairs to her room, and throws herself on the bed. “Oh, my goodness! Bri, I don’t think I can do this much longer. Are you sure it’s too late for us to elope?”

          His deep laugh makes her smile despite her annoyance, “I’m afraid your mother would be devastated, and Marge might have to be hospitalized, after spending all these months mediating between the two of you.” His voice is sympathetic, “I’m sorry, baby, you know I wanted to be there tonight for moral support.”

          “I’d love to have you here, but a medical emergency is much more important. Is everything alright?”

          His sigh spoke volumes, “It wasn’t pretty—an overdose—but the patient is stabilized now and being transferred upstairs. I’m wrapping up my report then I’m out of here…want me to come join you for the cake tasting?”

          “THERE IS NO CAKE! We’re just talking about it. We’ve _been_ talking about it for _hours_ , and there is not one morsel of cake present. Just pictures of cake and descriptions of cake…right now they’re downstairs rhapsodizing about shades of off-white and I’m ready to scream!”

          “Sweetheart, this is still _our_ wedding. Do I need to have a talk with your mother about how she’s dominating everything?”

          “No,” Honey’s voice is small. “I—I’ll talk to her. Soon. But right now she’s on cloud nine. I’m her only daughter, Brian, and this is a pretty big deal to her. Especially after I refused to get married in the City, or in Scotland, or to invite five hundred guests to the Country Club. I have to make compromises.”

          He is silent, and she knows he disagrees, but they’ve had this discussion before. Honey is a lot more confident than she used to be; once she was so shy that she was even scared of her own parents, they were practically strangers. That relationship has much improved, but she has never grown as close to her mother as she has her father, and Brian knows she is scared of jeopardizing this project on which her mother is willing to spend so much time and energy.

          Briefly he wishes Honey would stand up to her mother, but just as quickly the urge fades. If she did, she wouldn’t be Honey, whom he loves just as she is, and one of the things he loves about her is that, like him, she wants everyone to be happy and to avoid drama.

          The way things are headed, they may not be able to avoid it forever, however.

          “Go downstairs and tell them which color you like, what flavor you want, everything for the wedding cake, and that you want them to surprise you with the cake for the shower, and my groom’s cake, then tell them you have to go. Tell them that you and I will tell them when we are both available to meet for an actual cake tasting, and we can taste every flavor of cake until we get sick. Meet me at my place in forty-five minutes.”

          “I love you.”

          “I love you, too. Now go piss off Jacque and get the hell out of there.”

          She smiles and stands up, checking her appearance in the mirror over her dresser. She is about to tuck her phone in her pocket when she sees the blinking light indicating she has a text; it’s from Marge: “Help me.”

 

******

 

          Household chores have always been one of Trixie’s least favorite activities, and she hasn’t grown any more fond of them than she was as a teenager. In the good old days, Daddy had paid her an allowance to help Moms with the chores, and more often than not, Moms had let her get away with a “lick and a promise,” as she was always fond of saying. Unfortunately, living alone, there was no one to pay Trixie to clean her own house, nor to pick up the slack if she let it slide. She paid a teenage neighbor to shovel her driveway and walks in the winter, and to mow her lawn in the summer, but the inside was all her responsibility, and today the results of skipping that responsibility were staring her in the face.

          Rather than getting to sleep in on her first Saturday off in three weeks, Trixie had to force herself out of bed and get started on the mountain of laundry she had let pile up. While the first load was in the wash, she emptied the trash into the bin in the garage, and took the week’s recycling to the covered box she kept there. Pick up was on Monday, and she made a mental note to take it all to the curb before she left for work that Monday. Next was the thankless task of cleaning all three litter boxes, and after adding those bags to the growing pile in the big trash bin, she washed her hands, gathered her supplies, and started at the top of the house, in this case her bedroom on the second floor.

          The two smaller bedrooms saw little use; one was simply furnished with the furniture from her girlhood room, and she rarely had overnight guests. She dusted and swept the floors, and made a mental note to replace the potpourri in the glass jar on the windowsill. The second bedroom she used as an office, and there was little there besides a desk, chair, two filing cabinets, her gun safe, and a large bulletin board where she posted things for cases she was working on.

          Now she stopped, staring at her notes for the robbery at the Quik-Mart. She and Jenni had checked out the trailer park, knocking on doors and questioning the sullen occupants, but no one admitted to knowing anything. They had better luck running the plate number Travis had given them, but that lead didn’t pan out either. The registered owner, Killian Tubbs, was a young African-American with a record clean of anything other than a few old parking tickets, one speeding ticket, two incidences of suspected shoplifting, a few drunk and disorderlies, and a bust for minor marijuana possession when he was twenty. There hadn’t been anything for the last few years, and he had insisted he had nothing to do with any robbery. His alibi was pretty solid, he had spent the weekend of the 20th at his girlfriend’s house, sick with a stomach bug. The girlfriend, and her mother, whose house it was, corroborated his story, but Trixie wished her gut was as easily satisfied.

          The second man was Killian’s buddy, a guy named Ty Johnson, and he was much more interesting. His record revealed a past littered with minor offenses, mostly related to drugs and drinking, but he had been busted on a possession charge five years prior, and spent two years inside, before being released three years ago. On paper at least, he had been clean since then.

          Of course, people could change, people did. Look at Dan, he was no longer recognizable as the sullen boy who had first come to Sleepyside. But Dan, no matter his past offences, had been a young teen when he was rehabilitated, he hadn’t spent long in a gang, or living on the streets, and he had never done time. Somehow, though, she couldn’t believe these two guys, who had been on a path for bigger trouble, had set themselves on the straight and narrow. Prison was supposed to rehabilitate offenders, but as any cop knows, it isn’t quite that straightforward.

          But Ty Johnson had an alibi too; he had been in the City, applying for a job that Friday, and had the documents to prove it.

          Right now, they had nothing to go on. But she wasn’t satisfied. Although on paper there was nothing to prove these guys had hit the Quik-Mart, her instincts were setting off alarm bells, she wasn’t sure they were on the up and up. Talking to Johnson had made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. On the surface he was polite and cooperative, but there was something subtle in his attitude that made her think he was laughing up his sleeve at her. As they had told Travis, however, feelings weren’t enough to go on.

          Shaking off her funk, Trixie emptied the wastepaper basket and gave the furniture a quick wipe down, then used the upstairs vacuum cleaner to clean the rug, then swept the floor, and moved on to her bedroom.

          The bed was quickly taken care of, as was the sweeping, but it took her longer to sort through the clothes she had tossed around. Some of them could be laundered at home, but a few things she would have to drop off at the dry cleaners. Once the floor was clear, she swept and vacuumed, moving into the hall to vacuum the carpeted runner, and then quickly cleaned the bathroom. This room was one of the major reasons she had rented this house; it was full of old charm, the floor was tiled in tiny white hexagonal tiles, the medicine cabinet was original to the house, as was the enormous claw foot tub, which allowed her to soak and dream, staring up at the wide stained glass window over the tub. Its pinks, greens and purples sent splashes of warm color around the room on sunny days like today.

          Reminded that it was a beautiful day and she was wasting it, she rinsed the tub, emptied the waste basket and ran lightly downstairs. Another half hour of diligent work had her downstairs shining and smelling of lemon furniture polish, and she set the Roomba to working on the amazing amount of cat hair three cats produced, while she put away her things and made a grocery list. By rights she should go to the store and stock up, but she was tired of being responsible. She wanted to get out of the house and enjoy this day while it lasted. On her way upstairs to shower, her phone rang and she paused on the landing to answer.

          “Regan! Hi!”

          His voice was warm, “Hello, is this a better time?”

          She laughed, “Oh god, I was such a mess when you were here! You must think I’m a terrible hostess.”

          “Naw, you’re fine. I could tell you had a lot going on.”

          “You have no idea! I was sweeping up kitty litter for ages. That will teach me to set the open bag on the table. Screech got impatient and nudged it onto the floor. Ugh, such a mess!”

          “I’ll bet. Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come join me for a ride? It’s been ages since you got a chance to, and I thought you might like to come into the Preserve with me.”

          “Oh gosh, I’d love to. I really need a shower, though, can you give me, hmm, like half an hour?”

          “For you, I have all the time in the world.”

 

******

 

          “Do we have to get up?”

          “There’s a little time before the alarm goes off. Then we have to get up and meet our mothers, we’ve got that appointment with the florist at ten, then we’re picking up our fathers for lunch and then you men have to go into the City for a tux fitting while I go shoe shopping with Mother and your mom in White Plains, and to look at bridesmaid gifts. Then after that we really need to sit down and go over the list for the deejay, and while we’re at it, Ms. Trask wants to know who is going to be giving speeches, so she can work out the order to give to the deejay.”

          Brian buried his head in his pillow and moaned. Honey looked at the back of his head with sympathy. “I’m afraid that all our Saturdays from here on out are going to be like this, more or less.”

          He rolled over and stared at the ceiling with a sigh, “So much for a lazy weekend starting off with slow morning sex.”

          She slid into his arms, and slipped a hand under the covers, “That, my love, is why they invented the quickie.”

 

******

 

          Trixie waved at Jack Farraday, who had been assistant groom at the Wheeler’s Stables for years now; they had gone out once or twice, years back, but she hadn’t accepted another date…based on Regan’s advice, if she remembered correctly. Grinning, she shook her head, no wonder she hadn’t had that many boyfriends, if she took dating advice from a man more comfortable with horses than people.

          “You’re in a good mood,” Regan commented, catching her by surprise. She had the sun in her eyes, and hadn’t noticed him standing in the shadowy entrance to the barn. He leaned in the doorway, smiling at her, arms crossed over his broad chest. She felt a surge of affection for him, dear, dear Regan.

          “The sun is shining, I get to go riding with one of my best friends, my house is clean and I’m done adulting for the day.” She gave him a wide smile, “Who could be in a bad mood?”

          He straightened and placed a hand over his heart, “I’m one of your best friends? I’m touched.”

          “Actually, I was talking about Susie.” Trixie laughed up into his face, and shrieked, pretending to run away when he swept out a long arm, trying to tickle her. “Regan!”  
          “Damn, Trixie Belden, you’re hell on a man’s ego.” He shook his head, his green eyes wounded but his mouth smiling. If she hadn’t known better, she might have thought he was actually a little hurt.

          “Sorry,” she said breezily, “but you know how I feel about Susie. She and I share a bond which no man can come between, not even you.”

          “I’m sure that’s a comfort to the men you date.”

          “What men? The last date I went on was in 2015. I’ve got to get out of this funk or I’m going to end up a sour old maid, like Aunt Alicia.”

          “Impossible.”

          “I dunno, I bet Aunt Alicia thought the same thing once too.” She headed past him into the stable, “Is Susie available?”  
          “She is. Marge hasn’t had the time to ride much lately. On top of her other responsibilities she’s pretty swamped with wedding stuff.”

          “Ugh, I know. I talked to Honey last night, she was all knotted up from an afternoon spent talking about cake but not actually getting to _eat_ any. She said she was ready to run into Crimper’s for a cake and pretend it was someone’s birthday, just so she could get a piece.”

          “Did she?” Regan asked, saddling Jupiter.

          “She didn’t have to, she got home and Brian had picked her up a wedding cake cupcake at Joiner’s Bakery, and was busy making her dinner—a candlelight dinner,” Trixie realized she sounded a little wistful and shook herself, her life was just great, and she didn’t need a man or romance to make it any better. _But it sure would be nice to have someone to surprise me at the end of a difficult day_ , she thought. She tightened the cinch on Susie’s saddle. “I never realized my sensible brother had such a romantic streak.”

          “It just takes the right woman for a man to want to spoil her,” Regan said. His voice sounded funny to her, and she snuck a quick look at him. He was single, had been for a while, at least no dates that she knew of. His one serious relationship of which she had been aware, had been with Joan Stinson, but that ended when Trixie was still in high school. From the little she heard Dan mention, she knew Regan had dated women since then, but he was so private that she didn’t know if he was seeing anyone now. _I hope he has someone to bring out his romantic side,_ she thought, _he deserves to be happy._

They mounted the horses and rode into the Preserve, chatting in a relaxed manner about the improvement in the weather, the new bookkeeping course he was taking, her partner and how she was working out, and the fact that yet another gamekeeper had quit.

          “Matt can’t seem to find someone who has staying power,” Regan commented, shaking his head, “Ever since Maypenny died, it’s been one fella after another. They can’t take the loneliness, I guess. It isn’t an easy life, living out here, with nothing but animals for company, no neighbors, no cell reception, nothing but silence and trees.”

          “I loved exploring here when I was a kid, but sometimes I got the creeps. It’s so lonesome out here, and some parts of the Preserve are very dark, all these old trees. It will be a shame if he can’t find someone to stay. Good land needs good caretaking.”

          “Certainly if the trails are to be kept clear for hunting and riding, and if someone is going to run off the teenagers and the people who sneak out here to hunt.”

          Trixie looked at him sharply, “Have you seen anyone out here lately? Hunters, I mean?”

          “No,” he said slowly, “but I’ve seen shells out here a few times, when I’m exercising the horses, and I’ve seen evidence of ATVs ridden through here. Now that could be teenagers, not everyone is as responsible as you lot were, but some of these beautiful old trees have damage to them from reckless riders. Not to mention there’s trash and beer cans.”

          Trixie scowled, “Why can’t anyone respect other people’s property?”  
          “I’d say you were in a better position than any of us to know how rare that is.”

          She sighed, “I do. But I don’t really want to talk about work today. However, I’ll let ‘em know at the station to keep an eye on the roads around the Preserve, make sure there aren’t any people trespassing, or signs of anyone unloading recreational vehicles around here. It gets pretty lonesome on the west side of the Preserve, where Hawkin’s Ferry dead ends just past where it junctions with FM 4009. Might be a good place to keep an eye out.”

          “I’ll let Matt know,” Regan stopped to move Jupiter to the side of the trail, and hold a low-hanging tree branch out of her way. Once she had passed, he let it go, and moved to join her where the path widened. It was quiet, just the sound of the wind moving in the upper branches, and the soft sounds of birds and small animals. They rode in amiable silence, enjoying the mild weather and the peaceful company. It seemed to Trixie that Regan was even more quiet than usual, thoughtful, as if he had something on his mind. She thought about asking him, but then decided that if he wanted to bring it up, he would.

 

******

 

          After helping to groom the horses and clean the tack, Trixie had bidden the unusually silent Regan farewell and thanks for the invite to ride. She went up the house, but was informed that Honey and her mother had gone to White Plains to shop for shoes, “with Mrs. Belden, also, I believe,” supplied Celia, a long-time maid at the Manor, who was married to Tom Delanoy, the chauffer. Feeling let down, Trixie decided to pay her father a visit, but arrived at Crabapple Farm to find it locked up tight, no sign of her father, or Bobby—Rob, either.

          She had a whole beautiful afternoon ahead of her, and no one to spend it with. Dan had mentioned that he was volunteering at the shelter and then leading a self-defense class at the YWCA, and he had been cagey enough about the rest of his day that she suspected he had a date. Jenni didn’t answer her phone and Trixie was about to head for the grocery store when she caught sight of Fay Franklin on Main Street, loading a few bags into the back of her hatchback. Trixie honked and waved, pulling up with a guilty eye on her rearview mirror; luckily there was no traffic behind her at the moment.  “Hey girl,” she called through the hastily lowered passenger side window, “doing a little shopping?”

          “Hey Trix, yeah, I was feeling frisky from this weather, and I just picked up two of the cutest sundresses at Irene’s, and couldn’t resist a pair of sandals. I shouldn’t be spending anything, I’m trying to save up for my own place, but sometimes a girl has to splurge, y’know?”

          “Tell me about it. I swore to myself I wouldn’t buy another gun this year, but I just special ordered a gorgeous little Glock—“ Trixie’s enthusiasm was curbed by Fay’s yelp of laughter. She stopped, blushing. She sometimes forgot that not every woman got as excited about guns as she did. Fay grinned at her, “That was _not_ what I was expecting you to say!” She slammed her trunk shut and used the remote to lock it. “Before you get cited by one of your boys in blue for holding up downtown traffic, what do you say we go to Wimpy’s and grab a bite to eat? I’m starving!”  
          Twenty minutes later they were seated at the counter, sipping ice water and waiting on a waitress. Wimpy’s was still the number one place to eat down town, no matter the fancier places which had opened up; on a Saturday it was packed. It felt like half the teenagers in Sleepyside were in the small diner. Trixie had waved at her “little” brother, Bobby, who was crammed into a booth with five of his friends, but she wouldn’t embarrass him by going over to say hello. They chatted happily, catching up, while they chose their lunch, and waited for Jimmie Sue Watkins, the owner’s granddaughter, to make her way to them.

          “I haven’t seen you in ages, what’s new?”

          Fay’s dark eyes, outlined with black cat’s eye liner, gleamed brighter than the iridescent rhinestone stud in her left nostril, “Work’s been crazy, it always is, but at least I never get bored!” Fay was a nurse at Sleepyside Regional Healthcare, and worked in the ER with Brian, although she had been on nights for almost a year. “Some of the night shifts can be slow, but the crazies always seem to come out after dark. A few weeks ago we had this young guy come in, said he had dropped a box of frozen fish on his foot, but he didn’t want to report it as a workmen’s comp injury. I mean, c’mon, who wouldn’t want to get their medical bills covered?”  
          “Maybe he’s a perpetual klutz and he’s worried about getting in trouble if he keeps getting hurt on the job.”

          “Could be. We get enough of those, one guy’s been in three times in seven months, and this last time he lost a _finger_.”

          Trixie grimaced, “Yuck. Poor guy, that has to suck. At least I’m not _that_ klutzy!”

          Jimmie Sue finally slapped her order pad down on the counter and gave them a distracted smile, “Hey gals, what’ll it be?”

          Mindful of the bridesmaid dress she needed to fit into, Trixie ordered a salad with grilled chicken, and a diet Coke, while Fay asked for the special, tuna melt on rye, with pasta salad. They caught up while waiting on their food, waving at friends and getting interrupted several times by people stopping to comment on Fay’s hair. Trixie hid a smile the third time it happened; she was glad she never had strangers wanting to touch her hair.

          “Oh, I saw the pictures of your mom’s wedding to Di’s uncle. She looked beautiful, her dress was gorgeous.”

          Fay laughed, “Monty was great, he’s totally head over heels for mom, but I think he was the only one who didn’t think her dress was a bit much. She was happy though…when she and my dad got married, they were college students with no money, and she didn’t get to do the whole long white dress and flowers and an organist.”

          “Well, she looked really happy, they both did.”

          “It was pretty sweet. The two of them are totally mushy…if I didn’t like seeing mom so happy I’d be tempted to tease her.”

          “Your dress looked pretty, are you going to be wearing it again?”

          Fay snorted, and wiped her mouth, putting down her sandwich, “Um, yeah, no. Probably not…not a whole lot of occasions for a poor ER nurse to wear pink satin evening gowns.”

          “You’re going to be at Honey and Brian’s wedding, right? Well, it’s in the evening, and despite Honey’s best efforts, it’s become increasingly more formal. I think the dress would be perfect. If you’re like me, the less time you have to spend dress shopping, the better.” Trixie grinned at her friend and stabbed a forkful of salad.

          They gossiped about mutual friends, Fay commenting that she had been glad to see Diana after so many years, when she was in Arizona for the wedding. Finished with lunch and not wanting to hold up the crowds still waiting for seats, they parted ways, promising to get together soon for dinner and drinks with the girls. Trixie turned on her car but didn’t pull out right away, instead she called Honey, but they must have been busy with shopping, because her friend didn’t answer. Sighing, she pulled out into the street and headed for the grocery story; she couldn’t put it off any longer, she needed to get stocked up.

 

******

 

          Diana sent a quick text to her mother, letting her know that she expected to be home within the hour. She rummaged in the patchwork messenger bag on the floorboard between her feet and pulled out her earbuds. It was time to listen to some music and drown out the painful silence in the car.

          She wasn’t sure now just why she had agreed to drive from Arizona to New York with one of her uncle’s ranch hands, Jake, who was returning back east to get ready for summer classes at Syracuse. The smart thing to do would have been use her frequent flier miles to fly back home; but somehow, even though it had been years since she was last in Sleepyside, she wanted to delay the return journey. Jake had been looking for someone to share the cost of driving back, and she agreed to come along. At the last minute they had been joined by another of her uncle’s employees, who they had dropped off in Cincinnati last night. Thank heavens Nate had been along for most of the trip.

          Upon leaving Nate at his friend’s house, they had stopped at a Motel 6 and gotten a couple of rooms. Maybe it was road fatigue which had weakened her good sense, or the fact that she was feeling vulnerable, about to return home after so long, with no plans for the future, while her friends were established in their careers, engaged to be married, settled in their paths. But whatever the reason, Diana had drank a few too many margaritas at Appleby’s and by the time they returned to the hotel, she had decided to let Jake seduce her. Or rather, to let Jake seduce her then get impatient with his less than noticeable progress and end up initiating things herself.

          In hindsight, it was a mistake to sleep with a twenty year old kid who had a major crush on her. They had woken this morning, he embarrassed but clearly hoping for round two, while Diana had kicked him out of her room and taken a long hot shower. They were clear headed enough to drive, but neither one wanted to eat, so they were soon on the road, driving in uncomfortable silence. She _really_ hoped he wouldn’t try to ask to see her again, or ask for her phone number. For now, she was going to drown out the silence with music.

          She pulled up her Amazon Prime playlist and thumbed through the songs, nope, too angry, too romantic, too upbeat. Ah, Yuna…she selected ‘Deeper Conversation’ and closed her eyes, leaning her dark head against the head rest. This song was so lovely and always made her feel slightly bittersweet. She listened to it twice, and then queued up the Vladimir Ashkenazy station, which opened with him playing Chopin’s Scherzo No. 2 in B Flat Minor. Trying not to think about how ridiculously nervous she was to be coming back home, she drifted to sleep, only to be jerked awake some time later, when Jake swerved to avoid being side swiped by a passing reefer truck.

          Jake cursed, slowing down, and letting the truck pass them. “Shit, I thought for a minute they were just going to move into the lane with me still in it!”

          Sheesh, how embarrassing would that be, if she had died, flattened by a truck full of fish fingers and tator tots?

 

******

 

          “These are horses, living, breathing horses. They need exercise. _Regular_ exercise, I might add. Your parents didn’t buy thoroughbreds for you kids to neglect.” Liam put his hands on his hips, glaring at the elder Lynch twins and Rob Belden. Trixie’s kid brother was a beefy high school senior, who wore his blond hair buzzed short, and he superficially he didn’t much resemble his sister, but his mischievous grin was the same. It reminded Liam of the time he caught Trixie making fun of him years back, aping his stance, booted feet apart, hands on hips, as he lectured the Bob-Whites for not exercising the horses enough.

          Sighing, he put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “I spent years trying to remind your older brothers and sisters that the horses need to be exercised regularly. I’m not going through this anymore. Either you three man up and do as you’ve agreed, without me having to be on your case all the time, or I’m talking to your parents about revoking your riding privileges.” He walked away without waiting for a response, and stuck his head in the stable to let Jack know he was going to be taking Starlight for a ride.

          There were fewer teenagers to ride the horses, but more horses to take care of these days. About seven years prior, the Lynches tore down their stables to make room for a professional tennis court for Delilah, and the Wheelers had agreed to let them stable their five horses at Manor House. He and Jack were kept busy between the two of them, caring for ten horses; Rob and the Lynch boys were fairly good about riding, but Delilah and Daisy didn’t have as much time. Delilah had been playing tennis for years, and her mother and her coach were grooming her for a career in women’s tennis. And Daisy Lynch was a quiet, withdrawn kid, she didn’t much care for riding, as she was scared of horses. Occasionally she would come ride with her sister, but only if she could ride Lady, the smallest and gentlest of the horses.

          Swinging into the saddle, he adjusted the stirrups and guided Starlight’s head towards the Preserve; ever since Matt Wheeler started having so many issues with holding on to a Gamekeeper, he had taken to riding the trails more, so he could keep an eye on things. Today it was as quiet as last week when he took his ride with Trixie. Liam had to shake his head as he thought about that day. Maybe he had missed a perfect opportunity to ask her out, but somehow he felt like it would have cast a shadow on a lovely day, two friends riding together with no agenda. He hadn’t given the idea up, but he wanted the moment to be perfect. After so many years of being a friend, it might take some doing to convince her to look at him as anything more. He wasn’t going to rush and risk upsetting the balance of their relationship.

          Also, the ride had revealed a few things: she wasn’t dating anyone, she and Darius were just friends, and she didn’t appear to be pining for her old boyfriend. _What about Jim?_ He couldn’t help but wonder. “That was years ago,” he frowned at Starlight’s ears, “they’ve had years to reconcile if they wanted.” But he couldn’t help but remember Honey saying that Jim and his long-term girlfriend had broken up recently. He was due in town soon, coming in for the welcome home party for Diana.

          Maybe it would be best if he waited to see how Trixie and Jim’s encounter went, before he said anything.

 

******

 

          “Thanks for calling, Regan, I’ve talked to the patrol officers, but so far you’re the first one to catch sight of anyone in the Preserve.”

          “Well, like I said, I just caught a glimpse of a couple of people, running out onto the road. The trees blocked my view, I’m pretty sure they were men, but it might have been two of them, or maybe three. I heard a vehicle start up and take off fast, but didn’t get a glimpse of the make, or even if it was a truck or van. But it sounded big.”

          “Every little bit of information helps, you never know what’s important.”

          “I’ll let you get back to work.”

          “Thanks again, Regan, see you.”

 

******

 

          Honey was already at the Lynches when Trixie showed up, running late. Of course, Honey was hosting a proper Bob-White party for Di later in the month, but for now, the girls wanted to catch up. Trixie passed Mrs. Lynch on her way upstairs, and stopped to talk to her; she had always enjoyed going over to Di’s house when they were small, even though the Lynches had lived in a small apartment at that time, and part of that reason had been Mrs. Lynch, who was a sweet, pretty woman who rivaled Moms for her baking skills.

          That had been before Mr. Lynch turned a small inheritance into a series of very smart stock market investments, and put the resulting money into real estate. Westchester County had really boomed, and Mr. Lynch caught the up swell in the market in time to make a fortune. When Di was eleven, her father built his McMansion on Glen Road and the whole family moved in, installing nannies, maids, gardeners and a very imposing butler, Harrison.

          Once Di joined the Bob-Whites, her mother had been persuaded that they didn’t need quite so much staff, and Di had happily earned an allowance helping to care for her two sets of twin brothers and sisters. Harrison still reigned supreme, however, and the whole family was slightly intimidated by him.

          Today, fluttery little Mrs. Lynch was on her way to the Sleepyside Garden Club, flitting up and down the stairs like an anxious bird, as she issued orders to the impassive Harrison. “Oh hello, Trixie dear! Are you here to see Diana? The girls are up in her room, just go on up. How is your mother? Oh, I’ll be seeing her at the Garden Club meeting, I’ll ask her then. I’m terribly late. Your hair looks a little unkempt, dear, you should fix that. Have you seen Diana’s? Goodness, it’s never been so long!”

          Trixie giggled, and waved Mrs. Lynch on her way. She didn’t bother stopping to fix her hair, Honey and Di had certainly seen her looking worse.

          When the boys hit their teens, the elder Lynches had hired a designer to renovate the third floor, and all five kids had their own suites, as well as a media room and game room on the third floor. It was after school hours, and Trixie wasn’t surprised to hear music coming from one of the boy’s rooms, but she raised her eyebrows in surprise when she smelled a whiff of cigarette smoke. She was pretty sure neither parent would be happy to find out one of their children was smoking.

          She passed by Daisy’s room, the door of which stood open, and spied the quiet teen on her bed, wearing earbuds and writing in a large, leather-bound Moleskin. Daisy was the closest to Diana in personality, she was quiet and shy, and very artistic. Both Larry and Terry were athletic and pretty rough and tumble, preferring sports to school, although, Terry was a bit better of a student. Delilah was the most outgoing of the Lynch siblings, she played tennis, ran track and was involved in the student government as well as dating a series of pretty, but academically unexceptional football players.

          Diana’s suite of rooms is at the end of the hallway, overlooking the backyard, which stretched from the terrace, including a gorgeous pool with slides, waterfall and cabana, and sloped down to the Hudson River. She taps on the door and enters, finding her friends curled up on the bed, catching up. Diana jumps to her feet and holds out her arms, “Oh. My. God. Trixie Belden look at you!” A few quick steps and they are hugging, rocking side to side. “I missed you _soooooo_ much,” Di exclaimed, her voice muffled because her face is buried in Trixie’s hair. “Mm, your hair smells great.”

          “That’s a relief! I thought I must look like a scarecrow after meeting your mom on the stairs,” Trixie jokes, pretending to smooth her hair.

          Di rolls her eyes, “Mommy has zero filter. You look fine, you’re just a little…windswept.” Deftly she smooths Trixie’s hair, lifting a strand to the light, to admire it. “Dang, girl, your hair has gotten _long_! And are you dyeing it?!”

          Easily as always, Trixie blushed, still uncomfortable with compliments. “Thanks, yeah, I uh, I put a few highlights in, they’re fading now.” Mimicking her friend, she pinches the end of one of Diana’s black tresses between her fingertips and holds it up between them. “You should talk, your hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it. What is it, to your waist now?”

          Di twirled, “My hips, almost. I’m ready for a change though, I’m going to cut a bunch off and donate it to Locks of Love.”

          “What a great idea,” Honey chimed in, running her hand thoughtfully over her dark blonde hair, which she had worn for years in a shoulder length bob. She has been growing it out for the wedding, and it is quite long now. “Maybe I’ll do the same.”

          “You’d better wait until after the wedding, or you mom will flip.”

          “Mother has enough to worry about without concerning herself with my hair,” Honey rolled her eyes, “I love her, but honestly I’m about to lose it. This wedding is supposed to be a special day for me and Brian, but we’re starting to feel dispensable to the whole affair.”

          “It’s just a few more months,” Di comforted her, moving to her walk-in closet and taking off her top. She hesitated, standing in nothing but a sports bra and shorts, “Where are we going? Should I get dressed up?”

          “I thought we could have dinner and stop by the house, everyone would love to see you, and of course, at the farm too. Unless you’d rather do something else? What do you think, Trix?”

          “Gosh, you’re so tan,” Trixie said, making it clear she hadn’t really been paying attention. “Oh, I’m good with whatever. Go with the flow, that’s me.”

          “I’ve been craving a Wimpy burger and shake for days, is there something there you can eat, Honey?”

          “I’ll be fine wherever we go, pretty much every place has a salad nowadays, if nothing else.” Honey waved a dismissive hand, “Trix is right, you’re really tan. You’re going to make the rest of us look like ghosts.”

          “Years of camping and hiking and hanging out on beaches,” Di laughed, shucking her shorts and pulling on a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt, and bundling her river of black hair into a large messy ponytail. She sat on the padded bench at the foot of her bed to put on tennis shoes. “The two of you always tanned much more quickly than me, you’ll be brown as anything in no time. Oh man, am I looking forward to seeing everyone! Any word on if Mart can make it to the party?”  
          Trixie harrumphed, “I’m lucky if he returns my calls, much less makes time to visit.” She softened her tone when she saw how disappointed Diana looked, “I’ll call him until he answers, and see if he can make it. But most of his free time is taken up with his son, so I don’t know if he’ll come, no matter how much I beg.”

          “I’m happy to say that Jim will be there,” Honey supplied, “he sounded like he was really looking forward to it. He works too hard, it’s been simply ages since he came home for a visit.”

          “He should take some time off,” Trixie put in, “knowing Jim, he has plenty of un-used vacation time piling up. Plus, he’s the son of the boss, I’m sure everyone will look away in his case if he decides to play hooky.”

          She had been joking, but once again she put her foot in her mouth. Honey’s face flushed, and she spoke evenly, but a little defensively, “You know Jim doesn’t like favoritism, Trixie, and he would never abuse his position as Daddy’s son.”

          “Heavens, we all know how saintly Jim is,” Di said quickly, laughing lightly, “That’s never been an issue. But Trixie’s right, he would probably enjoy a little time off. The last time I talked to him he sounded…tense.”

          “Breaking up with Nicole threw him for a loop, but I’m hoping he’ll shake it off. At least for the party.”

          “Speaking of, let’s get this one started!”  



	6. Secrets Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes for a picnic in The Preserve to celebrate Trixie's birthday. Dan discovers a secret. Diana has a moment of revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a near-moment in here. Will Liam ever make his move?

_April_

“Hey, unc,” Dan stuck his head in Liam’s office, and gave him a hopeful look. “Any chance you can kick off early and come with me?”

          Liam looked up from the supply catalogue he had been perusing, “I might be able to, why, what’s up?”

          “Oh, I rode over with Brian, but he and the girls are neck deep in wedding talk now, and I’m starting to twitch. And right now it’s just Honey and Trix, Di hasn’t even shown up yet.”

          A grin spread over his uncle’s face, “Starting to hear the sound of wedding bells and the pitter patter of little feet?”

          Dan shuddered theatrically, “No thank you. I’m way too young for that.”

          “Brian isn’t that much older than you, but he seems pretty ready.”

          “Brian was born ready to be a family man.”

          Liam grinned, closing the catalogue, “I suppose I could take pity on you and head out a little early. But I have to stop by the house, I promised Marge I’d take a look her desk chair, one of the wheels is acting up.”

          They strode up to the house together, “So I take it you haven’t met anyone special since Jasmine? No one to change your mind on the no-marriage, no-babies stance?”

          Uncharacteristically, Dan hesitated then finally reluctantly said, “I’m not ready for wedding bells, but—well, I have sort of started seeing someone in a different light. I’m not sure about crossing the line of friendship though, plus I’d have to worry about getting on the Chief’s bad side for bending department rules.” Dan shook his head, “If I screwed things up…? Man, Trixie would kill me.”

          It was a good thing he was walking slightly behind his nephew, because Lima felt like had been sucker punched. Always, he had thought that his nephew and Trixie regarded each other more as friends and siblings than male and female. It looked like he was wrong. He had to say _something_.

          It took two tries to clear the obstruction from his throat, “You’re old enough to know your own mind, Danny, but you should think long and hard about all the ways it could ruin your friendship if you and Trixie start dating and it doesn’t work out.” There, that sounded normal, rational. He didn’t sound jealous at all. Liam was so busy congratulating himself on his aplomb that he failed to notice the incredulous look Dan threw him, which was followed by a lightening glance of comprehension. Liam took the stairs to the side porch two at a time, looking unconsciously grim, and would have been startled to have seen the shit-eating grin that had spread across Dan’s face.

          Liam headed for Marge’s office and Dan made to follow but was halted by Honey’s cry of, “Oh there you are, Dan! I thought you might have left, and Di just got here. She was bummed to have missed you.” Dan changed direction, smiling automatically, but his mind was still reeling. The expensive flowers, the blushes, the fact that his uncle had recently asked him _if he thought he needed a younger haircut_ …Dan nearly cackled. His uncle was head over heels for Trixie Belden of all people!

 

******

 

          Di looked up when Dan entered the room and felt her breath leave her in a whoosh. Whoa. Seriously, _whoa_ , when in the world had Dan Mangan turned into such a hottie? He’d always been good looking in a dark, dangerous kind of way, but to Diana, he was just Dan, her friend and fellow Bob-White. But she hadn’t seen him in years, aside from Facebook pictures. Seeing him in person was vastly different. She felt like someone had sucked all the air out of the room. Dimly, she hoped she was acting natural. Okay, so he was good looking, really, really good looking, so what? She had dated lots of really sexy men.

          None of them had ever made her feel like this before, though.

          It was worse—or better—when he hugged her. A sizzling heat moved all through her, and she could have sworn her skin tingled with electricity. If she looked in the mirror would her hair be in a nimbus around her head, like with static electricity? _Get yourself together_ , she thought.

          No one had seemed to notice that she was acting like a nitwit. Thank heavens.

          Dan didn’t stay long, explaining that he and Regan were going to run by Cabela’s. An instant look of longing crossed Brian’s face, to be manfully squashed. Honey saw it too and laughed, giving him an affectionate look, “I’m not going to stand between a man and fishing rods. Go. But please, if you love me, get back in time for dinner. Mother has been in the city, and she’s sure to come back armed with a million things we aren’t going to want for the wedding.”

          “I’m marrying a saint.” Brian kissed her warmly, and the rest of them looked away, slightly embarrassed, and all a little envious, had they but known it.

          Di made conversation, sounding, to her own ears, normal, until Regan walked into the room. She hurried to hug him, smiling up at his friendly face, “Goodness, Regan, do you never change? I think you look the same as you did when I first met you and you taught me how to ride.”

          “Does that mean I’m stuck in a rut, or that I’m ageless?”

          She laughed, “You’re ageless. I would definitely never tease you. Trixie is the only one who ever got away with that.” A little color stained his cheekbones and she swallowed a giggle. Regan’s soft spot for Trixie was well-known, but none of them had ever dared mention it to him. In the mind of most of the Bob-Whites, there existed a healthy respect for his temper, even though he had mellowed greatly over the years. They didn’t often tease him.

          “I hope, now that you’re home, you’ll have some time for riding…everyone’s so busy that the horses don’t get the work outs they used to.”

          “That’s a great idea!” Trixie enthused, “We should all go riding, maybe take a picnic!”

          There was a general chorus of agreement, and as plans were made, Dan called out a general farewell, promising to join them for the ride. He and Liam left, Brian stalling long enough to kiss Honey once more before he jogged out to meet them at his Honda. “Freedom!” he joked, “Let’s get out of here before I’m dragged back to look at different tablecloth colors or something.”

          “Wedding planning not up your alley?”

          “Luckily Honey just wants me to be involved in the major decisions, and to lend her support dealing with the wedding planner and Mrs. Wheeler, but we both know that out of the two of us, she’s the one with taste, so I can leave most of it to her.”

          “Today you can leave without guilt,” Dan supplied, “She’s got the girls. Well, she’s got Di, anyway.” They all laughed a trifle guiltily; it was no secret that Trixie wasn’t exactly the girliest of girls, but she hated not being the best at anything, and she wouldn’t appreciate being the butt of a joke.

          “I just need a break from looking at shades of white, excuse me, off-white, and discussing whether to have a candy bar or a photo booth—even though we’re serving a three course sit down meal, have three cakes and there will be a professional photographer _and_ a professional videographer there.” Brian sighed, “We started out with a guest list of fifty people, a ceremony on the lawn and a buffet and cake followed by a little dancing.”

          Dan shook his head, “Enough. No more wedding talk. I’m cutting you off,” he grinned at them, “Let’s go look at manly things and have manly discourse.”

          Liam cracked up, “Manly discourse? I see those two years of college paid off.”

 

******

 

          Diana stretched out on the floor and looked at the huge rings of fabric samples, “I never knew there were so many colors of tablecloths! This deep ivory is pretty, I think it would look wonderful in the evening with the candlelight, and the color isn’t too summery, it’s good for a wedding taking place in September.”

          Honey leaned over and took a look, “Sold! Where’s my checklist for Jacque?”

          Trixie found it buried under a pile of bridal magazines and brochures for wedding services. “Here!”

          Di snapped her fingers, without looking up, “Gimme. I’ll make notes, you decide what you want. Consider me your unofficial assistant.”

          Honey smiled, delighted, “Oh Di, would you really lend me a hand? I feel so bad every time I ask Marge for anything, she already has so much to do.”

          Di looked up from the table cloth samples, which she was tidily packing back in the big portfolio they belonged in. “Absolutely. I have plenty of time on my hands, and you know I love parties.”

          As they progressed through helping Honey make choices, the girls reminisced about all the Bob-White parties they had had over the years. “Gosh, we had fun!” Trixie sighed, she had gotten bored trying to help them decide on the cake toppers Honey was wavering over, and was laying on her back on the sofa, throwing a pillow in the air.

          “This party will be just as wonderful,” Honey declared, looking up from the tablet, “I’m glad we decided to wait and throw your birthday party the weekend of our welcome home party for Di. I know it means we have to wait until the twenty-eighth, but it worked better with everyone’s schedules, plus the weather forecast is looking like it might be hot enough to swim.”

          “I need a new bathing suit,” Trixie sighed, grimacing, “Somehow I bleached the one I had last year.”

          “Let’s go shopping,” Di said, “I have a million bathing suits, but I could use some new shoes, and I guess if I’m going to get a job I’ll need something besides bikinis, shorts and sundresses.”

          “Depends on what job you get,” Trixie joked.

          Smacking herself in the forehead, Di looked embarrassed, “Duh! I guess I should wait and see if anyone wants to hire me.”

          “Anyone would be lucky to have you,” loyal Honey said warmly, “I’ll keep an eye out for jobs.”

          “Anything you want to do?” Trixie asked with interest.

          Di pointed out her choice of cake toppers to Honey, “I say go for the gold monogram of you and Brian’s initials for the wedding cake, and get that cute little hand-painted resin couple that looked like they were hand carved, to go on the groom’s cake.” She handed the table back to Honey. “No,” she told Trixie, “I mean, I dunno, I guess maybe there’s something for me, but I don’t have any experience, any skills.”

          “I was having trouble deciding, there are soooo many cute ones, but I think you’re right, Di, put me down for both of those.”

          Di noted Honey’s decisions on the list and stretched. “Well, girls, I think we’ve done enough wedding work today, how about we go shopping and then have drinks? Don’t worry, Honey, we’ll have you back in time for dinner.”

          “I’ll need a drink if I have to see myself in bathing suits,” Trixie joked.

 

******

 

          “You’re insane, Trixie Belden,” Di said flatly, looking at Trixie, who had just tried on a one piece and was frowning into the dressing room mirror. “Do you ever actually _look_ at yourself in the mirror?”

          “What?” Trixie asked defensively, plucking at the suit. Honey looked up from her phone, she had been texting Brian now she saw the suit for the first time. She made a little face, “Oh Trix, not that one, it’s too sporty and I don’t like that color on you.”

          “But it covers me,” Trixie explained, “And the color isn’t that bad.”

          “It’s not that good, either,” Honey said dryly.

          Di had ducked out of the fitting room and now she returned, laden with an armful of bright bikini tops and bottoms. She looked with determination at Trixie, who backed up nervously, “Oh no. No, ma’am, Diana Lynch. I’m not wearing a bikini!”

          “Why not?” Honey and Di asked at once.

          “I don’t have the figure for it. I’ll wear a tankini if you think this doesn’t look good, but no skimpy bathing suits.”

          Di looked at Honey, “She seriously doesn’t know, does she?” Honey shook her head, “I’ve given up trying to convince her.”

          Trixie was bewildered, “What on earth are you two talking about?”

          Bossily, Di handed her two separate pieces, a white lace bikini top that looked like a cropped top, and a pair of colorful bottoms, with ties that ruched at the sides. “Here, try these on and we’ll tell you.”

          After Trixie was dressed, she faced her friends, “Okay, now will you tell me what it is I don’t know?”

          Di turned her to face the mirror, “Look at yourself, Trixie Belden. I mean, _look_ at yourself, don’t just glance, don’t make faces, don’t judge.”

          Repressing a sigh, she did as she was asked, and looked at herself. She had to admit, the bathing suit looked good…like, surprisingly good. “Okay…?”

          “You are not thirteen anymore,” Di stood behind her and placed her hands on either side of Trixie’s waist, “You have a tinier waist than either me or Honey.”

          Trixie was surprised, she always thought of herself as, well, sort of sturdy and functional, not fashionable. Certainly she didn’t think of her body as being in any way superior to her two gorgeous friends.

          “You have a perfect little hourglass figure,” Honey said, smiling, “You’re the only one that hasn’t figured it out.”

          “I guess I still think of myself as the plain one,” Trixie admitted, releasing an immediate storm of protest from her friends. “But I admit, this suit looks good on me.”

          “It looks great,” Honey assured her, “You should get it. Branch out. Wow the guys, they’ll never call you Tomboy Trixie again.”

          “Well...” Trixie hesitated, torn between her feeling of exposure, and the warm feeling in her chest, the idea that she might be as girly as Diana or Honey.

          “If you don’t buy this, I’m buying it for you,” Di said, crossing her arms, “And then I’m burning every other bathing suit you ever buy, until you wear this one.”

          Trixie rolled her eyes, “Way to be dramatic, Di.” She turned back to the mirror, tilted her head, “I do look pretty good, don’t I? I guess this suit flatters my body.”

          “Your body flatters that suit!” Honey said at the same time that Di grinned wickedly and said, “Trixie Belden, your body is bangin”!”

          In the end she bought six mix and match pieces, and a new cover up. They were having fun but decided to call it a day, since Honey had to be getting back to the Manor House. “Let’s go shopping next weekend,” Di suggested, “We didn’t get to spend much time on it today.”

          “Oh let’s,” Honey enthused, “I had so much fun with you two today.”

          “Maybe after we could have dinner and drinks with Fay and I want you both to meet Jenni?”

          They made plans to get together the following Saturday, and Trixie promised she would text Fay to see if she was free for dinner that same day, and ask Jenni at work; she wanted to introduce her partner to her friends. She had a feeling they would all get along.

 

*****

 

_May_

          “It’s just like old times, almost,” Honey said happily, as she guided Lady along the trail into the Preserve. Trixie, Di, Dan and Brian followed behind her; the old friends were celebrating Trixie’s birthday with a ride followed by a picnic. It was a chilly day, and overcast, but they had never let a little cold weather dampen their enthusiasm for outdoor activities in the past, and were determined to keep their plans today.

          “We just need Jim, and Mart,” Di said, looking around her in delight, “It’s been such a long time since we all went riding together. I’ve really missed this.”

          “We missed having you,” Brian said, reigning in Starlight, who was prancing in anticipation. “The horses sure are frisky today, I wonder if Bobby and the kids have been exercising them enough?”

          “Judging by how Uncle Liam grumbles, no, not enough,” Dan laughed, “I think Spring Fever has hit the boys, that or Senioritis. He and Jack are kept busy with the horses.”

          “Regan must miss having all seven of us around,” Trixie said, looking superior, “We kept the horses exercised much better when we were teenagers-”

          “Oh, yeah?” Dan asked, pulling on her ponytail, “I seem to remember more than once when one of your crazy adventures kept us from the stables, and Uncle Liam read us the riot act.”

          Trixie deflated a little, “So maybe we weren’t perfect _all_ the time.”

          “I feel bad, between work and wedding plans, Brian and I haven’t ridden much at all for ages.

          “I should make a point of coming out to ride more often,” Trixie reflected.

          “Uncle Liam would really love that,” Dan said mischievously, his dark eyes laughing. Brian caught his eye and they grinned, and he saw Honey and Di exchange amused glances. He didn’t think any of them realized what he had discovered, that his uncle was smitten with Trixie, but all the Bob-Whites knew that Regan had a soft spot for Trixie. She didn’t seem to realize it, but he had always let her get away with murder. So far, Dan has resisted saying anything about his revelation to his uncle, but it’s hard keeping it to himself. The idea of his uncle and his friend as a couple is slightly mind-bending. He wonders if Trixie has any idea of how he feels about her. Dan thinks not; Trixie doesn’t have any game, she is very straightforward in her relationships with people, which is why she hasn’t had a lot of boyfriends, most guys are slightly intimidated by her candor. Come to think of it, she and Uncle Liam would actually make a great couple.

          His thoughts are interrupted when they arrive in the clearing where the gamekeeper’s cottage stands. It had belonged to Mr. Maypenny, with whom Dan lived when he was a teenager, and seeing the familiar, humble structure always flooded him with memories. A few years back, when Mr. Maypenny died at the age of eighty-nine, he had left no family, and in his will he named Dan his heir, leaving him his land, his house, his few possessions, and some savings at Sleepyside National Bank. In a private letter dated a few years prior to his death, he had instructed Dan to use his inheritance any way he wished, that he was welcome to live on the land, or sell it.

          After a lot of thought, Dan had ended up selling the land to Mr. Wheeler, who had given him a very generous price for it. Modern improvements had been made to the cabin, and a series of gamekeepers had lived there, but no one for very long. The newest man, James Lacey, was taciturn and kept very much to himself; he didn’t appear to be home today, and the five of them sat for a moment on their horses, staring at the scene of so many youthful visits.

          “It seems funny not to see Mr. Maypenny come out in his funny knee breeches and invite us in for some hunter’s stew,” Honey said sadly.

          “And the garden!” Di exclaimed in dismay, her eyes gleaming with a sheen of tears, “Mr. Maypenny’s wonderful garden!”

          “None of the gamekeepers seemed to have a green thumb, they let the garden die off,” Trixie said with a sigh. She squeezed Dan’s hand, “You okay, Danny?”

          He smiled at her, “Sure. It just always feels weird to come here, knowing he’s gone. A lot sure has changed since the first day I came here.”

          They sat in silence, each thinking of how much had changed over the years. Brian was the first to break the spell, suggesting they get a move on, if they wanted to get the horses exercised before they stopped for lunch. After an hour of riding the trails, they made their way out to the cliff above the Hudson, and tethering the horses, they got busy spreading blankets on the ground, in a patch of fitful sun.

          “Brr!” Di shivered, and flipped a side of the blanket over her jean-clad legs, “It’s so cold today.”

          “I have on a thermal underneath my t-shirt,” Trixie said, unzipping the Old Navy hoodie she’d had since high school, “You want to borrow this?”

          “Thanks,” Di said gratefully, slipping it on. She rummaged in her bag, and pulled out a thermos and insulated cups and lids. “I brought the hot chocolate.”

          “Yummy,” Honey was unpacking a neatly arranged collapsible cooler. “Bri and I brought vegetable soup and sandwiches.”

          “I’ve got some of Moms’ brownies,” Trixie said, jumping back up and fetching her backpack. She grinned at her friends, “I actually made them, but they’re Moms’ recipe.”

          “Never fear,” Dan said, “I haven’t come empty handed. There’s a bottle of Kahlua in Trixie’s bag, I thought it would go nicely with Di’s hot chocolate.”

          “Mmm, I love Kahlua!” There was a general chorus of agreement, and soon they were all munching and sipping.

          “We mustn’t get too full,” Trixie warned, passing the bag of brownies, “Don’t forget, we’re all having dinner at Crabapple Farm tonight.”

          “Ugh,” Honey groaned, “I can’t think about food right now, even your mother’s cooking, I’m too full.”

          “I tried to tell her we could go out to eat, but she wanted to make me one last birthday dinner at the Farm.”

          Di shook her head, “I can’t believe your parents are moving! There’ve been Beldens there for ages! Have they decided what they’re doing with it?”

          “No,” Brian answered, wrapping his arms around a shivering Honey, “They haven’t mentioned selling it, but I suspect they’re trying to decide what to do. Normally it passes down to the eldest son, but there’s no way Honey and I can keep the place up the way it should be run, we both have full-time jobs.”

          Trixie shook her head, “ _I_ certainly can’t be responsible for a whole farm, my job is too demanding, for one, and I just don’t have the green thumb Moms has.”

          “Too bad Mart doesn’t still want to be a farmer,” Dan stood up, “Let’s go, gang. You girls are starting to turn blue, and we still need to groom the horses.” He extended a hand to Di and helped her to her feet. She sucked in a little breath when she was vertical and nearly landed in his arms. He smiled in a clueless, friendly fashion, and started picking up the remains of their picnic. Di mentally smacked herself in the forehead. Honestly, she needed to get over this. It was just Dan, for heaven’s sake.

          They made short work of cleaning up after themselves, and took the trails to where Glen Road ran along the curve of the bluffs, then cut behind the Manor House, next to Ten Acres.

          “When is Jim going to get started building?” Di asked curiously, looking at the overgrown property. Mr. Wheeler had the burned out shell of the house torn down years prior, and a few times a year his gardener would clear the property out, but it was looking shabby after winter.

          “Soon, I hope,” Honey answered, “I miss him, and I think he’s more than ready to begin.”

          “Sometimes, I think Jim might be a little afraid to actually test his dream,” Brian said slowly, as they filed into the stable yard, “He’s been looking forward to it for so long that it may feel slightly unattainable at this point.”

          “If anyone can do it, Jim can,” Trixie said confidently.

          “What can Jim do?” Liam asked, as they led the horses into the stables.

          “Anything,” she grinned, “Redheads are unstoppable. Never cross a ginger.”

          He twinkled at her, “And don’t you forget it.”

          She set to work on grooming Jupiter, and he moved off, smiling. Dan started singing softly under his breath, “Trixie and Liam, sittin’ in a tree—“ and he nearly laughed out loud when his uncle heard him and gave him a startled look. He grinned knowingly, and watched as the color mounted on his uncle’s cheeks. Narrowed green eyes met amused black ones, and then Liam set his mouth in a stubborn line and stalked into his office.

          “Regan seems mad about something,” Di whispered, giving Sunny a pat on the rump as she finished.

          Honey looked up from her phone, “What? Oh goodness, I hope he’s not in a bad mood. I just checked my messages, apparently we have a wedding emergency, and Brian and I are needed at the house. I haven’t finished grooming Lady.”

          “I’m sure Trixie will finish for you,” Dan offered, seething with suppressed amusement. Trixie immediately offered, and Honey and Brian hurried up to the house, asking Di to come with them since she had been such a help already. Dan had finished with Strawberry, and he cleaned up after Brian with the few unattended things Starlight needed. He called out loudly, “Okay, Trix, I’m done. I’ll see you tonight at dinner! Bye, Uncle Liam, we’re all out of here except for Trixie.”

          In the office, Liam gritted his teeth. His smart ass nephew was going to get a talking to, as soon as he could get him alone. Clearly, Dan knew, or suspected, something of his feelings for Trixie, and he thought it was humorous. He wasted a few minutes thinking harsh thoughts about what he would do if his nephew turned this into a joke, or worse yet, told Trixie. Maybe it was time to just go for it.

          Trixie was finished grooming Jupiter and nearly done with Lady when he stopped at the end of the stall and hooked his arms over the top bar of the stall door. She flashed him a smile, “Don’t worry, Lady is getting a top-notch job, Regan.”

          He smiled back at her, and assured her he had had no worries. “Are you ever going to call me by my first name?”

          “It feels funny! I called you Regan for so many years, your first name feels off-limits. Adult.”

          “It may pain me to admit it at times, but you’re an adult now.”

          “Habit, I guess,” she grinned engagingly at him, and he smiled back.

          “Happy birthday, speaking of adults.”

          “Thank you! I don’t feel any older.” She put away the combs and brushes, and closed the stall, moving to hang up the saddle and reins. “I guess there comes an age when you don’t feel any older with your birthday, except when you’re really old. It’s just an excuse to celebrate.”

          “And how are you celebrating, aside from the ride and picnic?”

          “I had lunch with Jenni yesterday, and tonight Moms is making a huge dinner and we’re all—“

          “I don’t suppose there’s room for one more at the Belden table?”

          They both turned in surprise, and found Jim in the doorway, grinning broadly.

          “Jim!” Trixie cried in delight, and flung herself in his arms. They hugged and then parted to smile at one another, and Liam tried to tamp down his instinctive feeling of jealously. _You have no right to be jealous_ , he thought. And even if he did, he could never begrudge Trixie her closeness to her old friends, even if she had once dated one of them.

          He shook Jim’s hand, “Welcome home, you’re looking good.”

          Jim clasped his hand warmly, “It’s great to be back! I felt better as soon as I got to town. I guess it’s been too long since I was home.” He shook his head ruefully, “Plus, I hate living in the city, I’m ready for some peace and quiet.”

          Trixie hooked her arm through his and turned toward the house, “You won’t find much of that,” she laughed, “not with wedding preparations going on.”

          “Tell me about it!” Jim laughed too, “It was a bit of a madhouse when I arrived. I didn’t get the details, I just escaped. Di told me you were down here.”

          “I guess I should head back up to the house and see if I can be of any use,” Trixie said reluctantly.

          “I’m sure Honey would understand if you didn’t, it is your birthday after all.”

          “I did want to go home and clean up, and Moms wanted me at the house early.”

          “Go on,” Jim said good naturedly, giving her a light shove, “Go get beautified and I’ll let Honey know.”

          “See you at six,” she told him, “Bring your appetite, Moms has a feast prepared, or my name isn’t Belden.” She watched him dash lightly up the stairs to the porch, then turned and went to find Regan, who was in the paddock with the Lynch twins’ horses. “Hey,” she jumped up on the lower rail of the paddock and grinned at him, “I’m as tall as you now.”

          “How’s it feel to be six foot tall?”

          A naughty smile lit her face, “That’s actually five eleven without boots, if I recall.”

          He thought of that long ago day, also on her birthday, when he had divulged his height to her, and laughed, “Only you, me and the driver’s license bureau know that however.”

          “I’ve never told a soul,” she assured him. “As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you’re six foot.”

          “As it should be.”

          “So, would you like to come stretch your long legs under the Belden dining room table and join us for dinner?”

          “Thank you, but won’t you want just family?”

          “Regan, you _are_ family.”

          He had to look away, lest she see his eyes, which were alarmingly teary. It sometimes seemed to him that he walked a no-man’s land, not family, not quite friend, more than staff. For years, the only family he could claim was Dan, and he loved his nephew, but he knew they both needed more. After composing himself he turned back to her with a smile, “Then as family, I accept.”

 

******

 

          For years, the Beldens had joked that the walls of Crabapple Farm were elastic, and tonight it seemed true. In addition to the Beldens (minus Mart), the house resounded with the laughter of Honey, Di, Dan, Jim and Regan. As usual, Helen Belden had outdone herself, and the dining room table was crowded with dishes of food: Italian pot roast, roasted potatoes, glazed carrots, garden peas, salad, homemade rolls and butter. There was sparkling cider for Bobby and Trixie, who didn’t like wine, and red wine for the rest of them.

          They had a wonderful meal around the table, sitting and talking for a long time, until finally Brian and Dan offered to clear up. “Just wrap the leftovers in plastic wrap, dear, and put the dishes in the sink. Your father and I will load the dishwasher before bed.”

          Everyone was too full to enjoy cake and coffee right away, so they found seats in the den, and Peter started a fire in the grate. The temperature had dipped after dark, and it was in the forties, but he opened the old casement windows slightly and let some cold fresh air in, and with the apple and cherry woods burning, and a few scented candles lit, the room was delightful. Trixie sighed happily, surrounded by her friends and family. She didn’t even need presents, just this moment was enough.

          Later, after the presents were opened and exclaimed over, and the coffee and cake were but memories, the night began to wind to a close. She followed her friends outside and bid them farewell, thanking them for her lovely gifts. Honey and Brian were riding back to the apartment with Dan, and they piled into the car, along with Di, who had ridden with them. They called for Jim to hurry, but he stopped to hug Trixie one more time, “Happy birthday, Schoolgirl Shamus, I hope this year is wonderful.” He kissed her lightly on the mouth, which surprised her a little.

          “Thank you, Jim,” she told him around the lump in her throat, that had lodged there when he called her by his old fond nickname. It had been a long road that finally got them back to their old footing, but a part of her would always cherish being his “special girl.” She gave him another hug and then sent him on his way. She waved as Brian’s Honda pulled out of the driveway, then looked around, wondering if Regan had left without saying goodnight.

          He was sitting on the low terrace wall, watching the clouds scud across the dark sky. She shivered, wishing she had grabbed her jacket, but went to join him. He hadn’t turned when she walked up behind him, but he looked at her now, his face almost invisible in the dark, the lights from the windows didn’t reach them.

          “I’m glad you came,” she leaned closer to him, basking in the warmth that he emanated. “And I loved the book you got me, I’ll probably stay up too late tonight, dipping into it. The history of Irish horse trading and racing is sure to be full of naughty old rascals and braggarts.”

          “I enjoyed it myself, I thought you’d like a copy too.” He noticed her shiver and put his arm around her, a little hesitantly, but she didn’t demur, instead scooting closer.

          “Mmm, Regan, you’re so hot.”

          A beat and then she started giggling, and after a minute he joined her in laughter. “That sounded bad, but I really just meant that you put off a lot of body heat.”

          “I got that, I didn’t think you were declaring your lust for me.”

          “Not in a cold garden, anyway.”

          “There’s a proper time and place?”

          “Maybe not that there is so much a time and place, as it’s too cold to think about sex.”

          _Not too cold for me_ , he thought ruefully. He stood up, “C’mon, I’ll let you go inside, we don’t want you catching a cold on your birthday.”

          She tipped her face back and he could feel her smiling, even though her face was in shadow. Without stopping to restrain himself, he placed his hands on her arms and leaned down to press a tender kiss to her cheek. Only it landed quite near the corner of her mouth, and there was a moment’s pause, one of those times he knew she felt the energy between them too, then the moment was broken and she stepped back out of his orbit and thanked him again, and turned to hurry inside.


	7. Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A possible lead in the Quik-Mart robbery. Trixie and Liam continue to dance around their feelings for one another. What is with all these interruptions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I don't own the characters. I just move them around and torment them.

_May_

Diana sipped her drink and stepped out of the Starbucks—a Starbucks in Sleepyside, whoever would have thought it!—and slipped on her sunglasses. She had been strolling through down town, reacquainting herself with her hometown, and stopped to refresh herself with a bathroom visit and a chai latte. So much had changed but so much had stayed the same.

          Like home; she made a face, the twins might be eighteen and sixteen, but they squabbled like they were little kids, and she had gotten tired of being in the house with them. The Lynch home might be enormous, but somehow it wasn’t big enough to escape four noisy teenagers.

          She would have liked to hang out with the girls, but even though Honey was off each day by two thirty, she had lesson plans and meetings after work, and Trixie was up to her elbows in cases, paperwork and briefings. It sucked being the only one without a job, she felt so useless. Everyone else was busy, productive, but she was rootless. It was that feeling which had finally convinced her to come home, but so far all she had done was sleep in, shop and help Honey with wedding plans. She brightened, at least she had that going for her. And it was fun, too. But she’d had enough fun, years of it, it was time to get a job.

          Diana had just stopped to call hello to Hoppy—an old childhood tradition of hailing the grasshopper on top of City Hall, said to grant wishes—and was hailed in turn by Fay Franklin. She looked tired, but stopped to chat.

          “I’m on nights, but doctor’s appointments and chores need to be taken care of during the day,” Fay explained, smothering a yawn, “I’m about to go home and crash, but I thought I’d say hello.”

          “I’m glad you did. Don’t let me keep you, though, you look beat.”

          “Not you,” Fay said admiringly, “You look nice and relaxed, I love your tan, I’m so jealous! Working nights I never get a tan.”

          Diana laughed, “At least you have a job. I’m starting to get bored. I need to find some work.”

          Fay hesitated then said, “Well, I don’t know if it’s what you had in mind, but my friend Rosalie--I knew her when I worked at the Glen Road Inn during college—she was telling me the other day that they need someone to work their reception desk.”

          It was a start; Di said she would apply the next day, and Fay encouraged her to use her as a reference.

          Feeling a bit more chipper, Diana continued walking through down town, actively looking for Now Hiring signs. Maybe the Inn wouldn’t work out, but there must be other places hiring.

 

******

 

          _Will this mtg ever end?_ Trixie scribbled on her note pad, and turned it slightly to attract Jenni’s attention. Her partner slid the pad in front of her, jotted something down without taking her eyes off of the Chief, and pushed it back at Trixie. _I think we’re in mtg limbo_.

          The Chief had been briefing them but was now off topic, bitching over budgetary cutbacks, and Trixie felt a yawn coming on. She rested her elbows on the table, cupped her chin in her hands and hid a jaw-cracking yawn. She loved being a cop, about ninety seven percent of the time, but meetings sucked her will to live. _The Bob-White meetings were fun_ , she thought. _Of course, most of the time I was in charge or Jim was._

Jim. It was great to see him, great to have him back, but his kiss had been…weird. It was far more intimate a salute than he normally gave her. It made her wonder if he was thinking about trying to rekindle something…surely not?

          Funny how Regan—damn, _Liam_ , she really needed to try and call him by his first name like he asked—had just kissed her cheek and yet she had felt more heat and desire in that moment than when Jim’s lips touched hers.

          _Stop it. Stop thinking about him like that. He’s your friend. And he was not feeling desire. Regan—Liam, doesn’t think of you like that. This is just a product of your weird crush on him from years ago._

Only sometimes she thought maybe it wasn’t just her. Every once in a while would be one of those moments, like the night of her birthday, and she would feel heat roll over her and wonder if he ever thought about her like that. But he didn’t. Surely he didn’t?

          She snapped back to paying attention, aware now that the Chief was finally off of fiscal matters and was warning them that the DEA had sent out an APB to local law enforcement, warning them that there had been an increase in the flow of drugs throughout the area, and it was suspected that the drugs might be coming from somewhere in the region. They were warned to keep an eye out for suspicious behavior, and an increase in drug related crimes and overdoses.

          Trixie got that old tingle, her Spidey-senses telling her that something was up. All thoughts of Jim, Regan and kisses vanished, and she felt antsy, keyed up. As soon as they were released from the meeting, she grabbed Jenni’s arm, “C’mon, let’s go!”    

          On the ride to the Quik-Mart she explained her rush to Jenni, “It never made any sense to either of us that Travis’ robbers were dressed like commandos, right?”

          “Yeah, not exactly regulation issue for convenience store robberies,” Jenni agreed.

          “Well what if these guys are connected to the drug running? That might explain why they had tactical gear.”

          “Maybe…” Jenni seemed doubtful, “But most drug mules try not to attract attention. Dressing like something out of an action movie doesn’t exactly broadcast _low key_. And why would they risk robbing a dump like that when they could make a killing moving drugs large scale?”

          “I don’t know,” Trixie admitted, “but I want to talk to Travis again. He told us something new the second time we interviewed him, why couldn’t he have remembered something else?”

 

******

 

_Las Vegas_

          “Happy Birthday, squaw.” Mart smiled when he heard his sister’s indignant protest. She had always hated it when he called her that, which was pretty much the whole reason he did it.

          “It _was_ a happy birthday, goon. You should have been there.”

          He winced, “Yeah, sorry, but I had a show that night.”

          She sighed gustily, “I guess I forgive you. Still, we wish you could be around more often….seriously, bro, it’s been way too long since you came home. Moms and Daddy would love a visit.”

          “I know, I know…and I plan on it.”

          “When?”

          “Soon. Shit, Trix lay off, will ya?”

          She harrumphed, but didn’t pursue it. “I suppose you won’t be coming for the party?”

          “Uh, no, sorry. I’d love to, I wanna see Di—and you too!—but I’ve got commitments.”

          “How’s Justin?”

          “Good, great. I was in Chicago for a coupla days a few weeks ago, we had a blast. I can’t believe he’ll be starting school in the fall, he seems too little.”

          “Mart? This summer? Bring the little guy for a visit. He needs to get to know his dad’s family better.”

          He promised, and a short while later they got off the phone. Within a few minutes he was out the door, headed downstairs for his set. Just before he went onstage, he took his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Charlie. He saw a flashing notification light and figured he must have missed a call, his phone was set on silent and he hadn’t felt it vibrate; it would have to wait.

 

******

 

          Stupidly, Di was nervous. She had been trekking in Vietnam—practically in Cambodia, where there were still live land mines; she had enjoyed rock climbing on Kalymnos Island, scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reefs and had been mugged in more than one exotic locale. But her first job interview was making her feel stupidly anxious. So far, she wouldn’t say it had been a riotous success, her interviewer, Fay’s old coworker, a serious looking woman named Rosalie, didn’t seem impressed by Diana Lynch one bit. It was an odd feeling for the girl who had been the most popular girl in high school, crowned Homecoming Princess two years in a row and carried the lead in the Senior Play.

          “So why would you be a good fit for our team?”

          Swallowing an excess of saliva, Di smiled brightly, “I’m very friendly and outgoing, and I have traveled extensively, so I know how to anticipate traveler’s needs. Plus, I grew up in the area and I can suggest local sightseeing, fun places to eat and shop.” Rosalie jotted down a few notes, but she was a hard read. “And I’m very organized, I can deal with big groups…in high school, my friends and I got involved in a lot of charities. We organized bike-a-thons, rummage sales, a winter carnival, an art show, pet shows, an antique show…” Di trailed off, wondering if she sounded like she was bragging.

          But Rosalie seemed to have thawed somewhat, she smiled, looking much friendlier, “Lynch…were you one of the teens that belonged to that group with the funny name? My niece graduated in 2006, I recall her talking about some kids who were always involved in community events.”

          Di’s smile (voted Best Smile, senior year!) was brilliant, “The Bob-Whites, that was me and my friends. We like to help. What’s her name?”

          “Kelly Evans.”

          Di thought, “Was she on the school paper?”

          “She was, actually she works at the _Sleepyside Sun_ as a copy editor now.”

          “I remember her! She worked on the school paper with my old boyfriend, Mart Belden.”

          “Oh yes, Mart Belden. Kelly had quite a crush on him.”

          Di laughed, “I’m not surprised, Mart was very smart, and so funny! He’s actually a comedian now. He lives out in L.A. but he’s been in Vegas for a while, doing a nightly act at one of the casinos.”

          “That must be exciting, glamorous, I’d imagine.”

          Diana was happy to gossip about Mart all day long if it softened Rosalie toward her. She wondered if this was a good sign, maybe she would be considered for the job now.

 

******

 

          Removing the earpieces from his ears, Brian lowered his stethoscope and looped it around his neck.

          “Well?”

          “Matt, you know I’m not a heart specialist, but I’d say yes, you may be having episodes of an arrhythmia or similar event. Given the scare with your blood pressure last year, and how tired you told me you’ve been feeling, as well as the dizzy spells, I am one hundred percent recommending you to see a specialist. And as your future son-in-law, I insist you go. Honey would be devastated if anything happened to you.” He reached for his tablet and started tapping, “I’m going to give you a referral, I can recommend an excellent doctor in the City, I worked under her during my student rotations.”

          A look of worry flitted over Matthew Wheeler’s face, but he shook his head, “I value your opinion, Brian, but I’m not going to a doctor in the City.” He held up a forestalling hand, “If it was suspected that the head of Wheeler Enterprises was weak, I’m afraid the vultures would start circling.”

          “Doctor Hansen is very discreet—“

          “I’m sure she is, but people could see me going in to her office, other patients would see me…I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

          Brian held on to his patience with difficulty, his future father-in-law was acting like heart disease was a death sentence and that shareholders would push him out of his position of power—something Brian was pretty sure they couldn’t do anyway. This wasn’t a Frank Capra film, no one was going to force him out of his job if it was discovered that he had heart problems. “If you feel that strongly about it, I do know a wonderful doctor in Boston that I could send you to.”

          It wasn’t just his imagination, the older man definitely relaxed. “Boston, hmm, yes, that would be fine. I can take Maddie, we can go see a play, have dinner, she’ll want to shop.”

          “Have you told Madeleine? Or Honey? I assume not, since Honey hasn’t said anything to me. Does Jim know?”

          “I didn’t want to worry them. It may be nothing, I don’t get as much exercise as I used to, I may just be feeling my age. Let me see this wonderful doctor of yours and find out what’s going on then I’ll tell them.” He frowned, “And don’t you go saying anything to Honey, either. I trust you to keep my confidences, Brian.”

          Brian didn’t bother pointing out that he had a physician’s code of ethics which he held sacred, but agreed mildly, cursing silently. Great, now he had a secret to keep from Honey. He really hoped Matt told his family soon, he didn’t like keeping things from her.

 

******

 

                    “Oh balls,” Trixie exclaimed in dismay, staring at the cans rolling away from her. She had been putting non-perishables away in her little pantry when one of the reusable shopping bag handles slipped off her finger and the contents cascaded onto the floor. “Great, I’m already running late.” She started picking up the cans, muttering to herself. She had gotten ambitious and invited the girls over for lunch, and while she had gotten up in plenty of time, somehow the morning had gotten away from her and now she was further delayed in picking up all these cans. Finally she got them put away, except for five that had gotten dented.

          “You may be okay, but I don’t want to die of botulism in a few months, so you’re getting eaten this week.” She squinted at the cans…peas, carrots, green beans, kidney beans and black beans. “Not all together, you three can be soup tonight and I guess I’m making chili this week.” Closing the pantry door, she went to start slicing her fresh ingredients for a salad, and check that the oven was warm; it was, so she slid in the lasagna that she had assembled the night before.

          She had invited Honey, Di, Jenni and Fay over for lunch and they were due to start arriving in a little while. Salad made, she put the bowl in the fridge, washed her hands, and went to shut Screech in the screened in back porch with Duke.

          Fifteen minutes later they were all in the living room, with the drinks of their choice, while everyone got to know Jenni. Trixie was happy to see that they were all getting along, as she had expected. Jenni had met new people since moving to Sleepyside, but had confessed that she didn’t know that many women her own age so far.

          Her friends seemed happy to accept a new face, and the five of them had an enjoyable lunch, amusing Jenni with tales of Sleepyside, some of the Bob-Whites exploits, and local gossip. After they all groaningly waved away any more lunch, Jenni asked for a tour of Trixie’s house, and Honey and Di offered to clear up while Fay joined Jenni on the tour, since she hadn’t seen it all before. “Your place is so charming,” Fay complimented, admiring the vintage crown molding and running an appreciative hand over the original cast iron door knobs.

          “Thanks,” Trixie laughed, “But I can’t take credit for it…I haven’t done much to the place besides add my stuff. Mrs. Lambino and her husband kept the place in apple pie order, for the most part, and all I do is clean.”

          “It’s cute,” Jenni agreed, as they left the guest room. She stopped in the doorway to the office and then cast a grin over her shoulder, “Now _this_ is my kind of room.”  
          “What…why?” Fay asked eagerly, crowding behind Jenni, only to stop short and yelp, “What was that?”

          Something had brushed against her ankle, and then shot off with a trailing yowl that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

          “Sorry,” Trixie laughed, “that was Princess Sophia, she must have gotten startled with so many new people traipsing through the house.”

          “Princess…Sophia?” Jenni raised incredulous brows.

          Trixie gave an embarrassed grimace, “Er, yeah. My landlady, Mrs. Lambino, she had to go into the nursing home a few months ago, and I took her cat in. She was beside herself with worry, so I told her Princess Sophia could live with me.”

          “Princess Sophia,” Jenni repeated softly, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

          “Yeah, apparently she was the heroine in a bodice ripper that Mrs. Lambino loved. Fiesty, she told me.”

          Fay laughed, “A lot of the older ladies at the hospital devour those books like they’re oxygen. I guess there isn’t a lot of romance left in life when you’re in your eighties.”

          “What do all the gray hairs think about your hair?” Jenni asked with a grin, nodding at Fay’s headful of bright locks. The strands were dyed purple, pink, red, blue, green and yellow; Fay called it her Rainbow Brite ‘do.

          “I work in the ER, so my patients are all ages, and mostly they’re all too miserable to care, but I get a mixed bag of comments. My mother wasn’t exactly thrilled when I showed up like this for her wedding.”

          As they made their way through the house, Trixie was thankful that they hadn’t lingered in the study. She didn’t know exactly why she was embarrassed, she knew other cops got stuck on cases, took work home with them, focused on solving the mystery. But she was a little sensitive from spending her teen years embroiled in mysteries, being accused of fixating on a mystery, of being _obsessed_ , as Jim had said during more than one disagreement. Viewed through other people’s eyes, her “Board” where she posted duplicates of reports, witness statements, photographs…it all seemed a little unhealthy.

          By the time they joined Di and Honey in the living room, talk was general and her mood lifted. Honey asked Jenni if she wanted to join her knitting group, since she was looking to meet people. Jenni admitted she might not be any good, but was assured that they had members of all skill levels and everyone would be happy to help.

          Di giggled, “Knitting? That is so you, Honey Wheeler. Maybe Jenni wants something a little more fast paced, dancing or Zumba or speed dating.”

          They all laughed, and Jenni blushed. “Have you met someone?” Di asked perceptively.

          “Not exactly,” Jenni hedged, “I mean, we aren’t dating. We’ve just hung out a few times, talked.” Her tone was collected but her face was still pink.

          Clearly whoever it was had her interest; they teased her a bit, but they were all too nice to pursue the subject when she didn’t want to talk about it. Honey smoothly changed the subject and soon they were discussing wedding plans, the warm trend in the weather, and Di’s job, which she would be starting the next day.

          “I’m nervous,” she admitted, twisting the hem of her t-shirt. “This is like my first, real job. Like an important one, you know? Not just babysitting or taking tickets at the Cameo in high school.”

          “You’ll be wonderful,” Honey assured her, with a warm squeeze of her hand on Di’s. “You’re so much more confident and self-assured than you used to be, and you know Sleepyside so well. I’m sure you can talk to anyone about anything.”

          “Rosalie is a good boss, you keep up your end of the job and she’ll treat you great,” Fay offered. “I loved working for her.”

          Trixie offered the insight that the Inn was the quietest hotel in all of Sleepyside. “We never get called out there like we do the other places.”

          “It’s almost surreal how peaceful this town is,” Jenni observed, “I feel like I’m in Mayberry. Or Stars Hollow.”

          “I loved _Gilmore Girls_ ,” they all chorused at nearly the same time.

          “I can’t imagine anything really bad happening in Sleepyside,” Honey observed dreamily, “It’s so perfectly perfect here.”

          There was a moment of silence and then Di started giggling and Trixie went red but finally joined in, and after a moment Honey realized why they were so amused and she started laughing. Jenni seemed a little confused but Fay laughingly explained that since as teens Trixie and Honey had gotten mixed up in more mysterious goings on than would seem possible in such a small community, Sleepyside had been home to some bad scenes. “As I recall,” she observed dryly, “On more than one occasion Trixie was held at gunpoint, kidnapped, threatened…”

          “I admit I was a bit of a lodestone for disaster when I was younger,  
 Trixie said with a slight edge of defensiveness to her tone.

          “It wasn’t that really, you were just so curious and impetuous that you jumped in with both feet and never stopped to think if you would be able to touch bottom.” Di was thoughtful, “You matured a lot the year you stayed in town while the rest of us were off to college.”

          “Regan called it my learning year,” a smile touched Trixie’s lips. She missed the significant look Honey and Di exchanged, but Jenni caught it. _Uh huh_ , she thought, _so there is something there_. It would be interesting to see what developed.

 

******

 

          “Despite the population explosion in Westchester County, and the real estate boom, it’s still so untouched here in Sleepyside.” Jim ducked under a low hanging branch, “I’ll have to get out here and trim these trees.”

          His father followed him, keen eyes scanning the property, “I’ve had Nailor keeping an eye on it, but I don’t think he’s as vigilant as he could be.”

          “Not with so much else to take care of. Besides, this is my responsibility.” Jim looked around the clearing, “I’ve been gone too long. It’s time I started taking care of my property. You’ve been great, Dad, but I’m ready to step up.”

          Matt Wheeler regarded his son with a pride that he rarely troubled to hide. “Jim, you’ve been so busy that it’s understandable for you to leave the management to others. And you know it’s been an honor for me to help you, although that Frayne pride chafes under patronage.”

          A reluctant laugh escaped Jim and he shook his head, “My mother always said if there was anyone more stubborn than me, it was my dad.”

          “He would have put Stonewall Jackson to shame,” Matt laughed. He had known Jim’s father when both were younger men at university.

          “So where are you going to start?”

          “I want to get the dead grass and low hanging branches cleared up, then I’m going to meet with a surveyor and an architect. I’ve had this idea for years of how I want it all to be laid out, but I’m no building planner so I’ll need help.” Jim didn’t say aloud that he had toyed with the idea of studying the subject so he could be on top of things. It was a fault of his, that he valued his independence and self-sufficiency. For a man who had already gained two degrees and worked in his chosen fields for several years, he was still pretty young, but he knew there was every chance that he could keep on taking courses until he ran out of time to start his school while he was still young enough to have the drive to see it through. If it hadn’t been for Nicole breaking up with him, breaking him out of his rut, he might have gone on trying to master more and more skills.

          They moved around the property, discussing needed improvements and possible placement for the buildings. They flushed out quite a few birds and small game, and Jim missed Patch, his springer spaniel, who had died the year before. He had spent his life with the run of the Manor House and its grounds, and Jim hadn’t had the heart to try and take him to the City. It had been years since he spent his days with the loyal dog by his side, but somehow the loss was still keen.

          After a few hours they called it quits and tramped their way back down the hill toward home; as they took the path that led to the Manor House, they passed where it split off down the hill into the hollow where Crabapple Farm lay. Jim couldn’t help but look towards the farmhouse and wonder if Trixie were home. It was foolish, he knew she didn’t live there anymore, but since he had moved back home, he felt like the years were sliding backward and if it went on long enough, he might be able to recapture that all too brief time when his world was still insular and perfect and everything he loved lay within his reach.

 

******

 

_Chicago_

         

          In the softly lit silence of Justin’s room, Mart sat holding his son in his arms. He was on the “big boy” bed that Justin had been so excited to move into, seated on _Cars_ sheets, his back against a headboard that was cushioned with Justin’s old baby blanket. His boy was right on the cusp between babyhood and boydom, and his world should be small and perfect and full of sunshine.

          Mart looked down at his sleeping child, who sprawled bonelessly across Mart’s jean-clad legs, his tousled head resting on Mart’s sternum. The lights were off, aside from a Ninja Turtles night light and a star and moon mobile, which turned silently, casting the pinpricks of light up on the walls and ceiling. Even without the aid of stronger light, Mart knew that dried tears had left evidence on his boy’s cheeks, still round with the fullness of childhood. Justin looked younger than his five years, fragile, small and helpless. Or maybe that was perception clouding Mart’s judgement.

          _You’re supposed to be able to protect them, but how can I protect him from this?_

          Justin had finally cried himself to sleep, and now he slept the deep sleep of a hurt and exhausted child; nothing short of a bomb blast seemed likely to wake him. Mart could lay him down and walk away at any time.

          _Not anymore. You have to man up, Martin. This time the stakes are higher._

         

 

******

 

          Celia had served the family and the staff was seated at the big bleached ash plantation table in the kitchen, eating their own meal. “I feel sorry for Honey,  
 Celia sighed, cutting a tender piece of roast beef, “Mrs. Wheeler has the wedding planner coming over again after they eat.”

          “What’s that,” Tom mused, “the third time this week?”

          “No wonder Marge isn’t at dinner,” Liam said, “She’s probably hiding in her room, hoping they’ll forget to invite her to join them.”

          “It’s going to be a lovely wedding, but this isn’t what the kids wanted, it’s too bad it’s gotten so out of control.”

          “It doesn’t have to be big to be beautiful,” Tom flirted, kissing his wife’s cheek. “Our wedding was gorgeous.”

          Liam rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. Tom was his friend, but it was a little nauseating to watch him act this way after almost thirteen years of marriage. The perpetual newlyweds, Trixie had dubbed them years ago. “Honey’ll say something when she’s had enough. She isn’t so meek as she used to be.” He buttered another roll, “and if she doesn’t, Brian might. He might be polite but he’s had enough or I miss my guess.”

          “You don’t know what it’s like, Regan,” Tom objected, “When a man’s getting married, it doesn’t matter what he wants, he just says yes and tries to keep out of the way.” Tom oofed when Celia elbowed his side. He grinned at his wife, “What? You know it’s true.”

          Celia made eyes at her husband, trying to silently communicate something delicate, but he wasn’t receiving the message. “What?”

          “She’s trying to tell you to stop talking about me not understanding marriage, Celia’s afraid you’ll hurt the bachelor’s feelings.” Liam grinned when Celia flushed.

          “Well, I know you and Joan came close…but you haven’t really dated anyone serious since then.” Celia’s green eyes were luminous with tragic tears. Both men twitched, afraid she was going to start crying or talking about fate or second chance romance. Luckily Marge entered the room just then, and broke the talk into general conversation.

          Once the family had finished eating, Celia cleared away the table, and Marge went to join the Wheelers and Brian for a wedding planning session. Liam stretched and started clearing the table. Since the kids had grown, the staff had shrunk, until now it was just the Delanoys, himself and Nailor that lived on the premises. After the house was cleaned, the day maids left and after dinner was finished the cook returned to her own home. Celia and Marge usually put way the food and loaded the dishwashers, but lately Marge had been roped more and more into wedding planning.

          “You two go on,” Liam offered now, “I’ll get the machines loaded before I head out.”

          Tom accepted with alacrity, but Celia fussed for a few minutes, pointing out which china needed to be hand washed and reminding him that the silver couldn’t soak. He shooed them out the door at last, and efficiently started his task. As it had so often lately, his mind turned to Trixie. He hadn’t seen her since the night of her birthday, and he felt like if much more time passed before they talked, it might get weird. After that almost-kiss, he thought the door might have opened a little. Maybe it was time to push it all the way open.

          Before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled out his phone and called her.

          “Reg—Liam, hi! What are you up to? It sounds like you’re taking a bath.”

          He laughed, “No, just rinsing dishes. I sent Celia and Tom home, and she made me promise to hand wash the china.”

          “Be careful! I was always terrified I would break it when us Bob-Whites took over kitchen duties.”

          “Tell me about it. This stuff is probably three hundred years old.”

          “At least at the Farm we used regular dishes, which was a good thing with my klutziness and Mart’s butterfingers. Moms only brought out her wedding china for special occasions.”

          “Like birthdays.” His words dropped like a stone into the sudden silence. With two words he had brought memories back for both of them. He could _feel_ her sudden tension, hear the acceleration of her breathing over the phone.

          “Yeah, like birthdays,” she said just a beat too long. Oh yeah, definitely something there.

          “Speaking of, I haven’t seen you since your mom stuffed us all full of good food and cake. I need to watch it, eating like that, I could start putting on extra weight. I was going to go for a run tomorrow. It’s been so long since we went for a run together…I thought you might like to join me?”

          “Oh, uh, well.”

          He smiled. “Early. I’m sure you have to be at work tomorrow.”

          “I do. Yeah, uh, yeah, of course, let’s run. Shall I meet you at 6?”

          “That works for me. See you then.” He ended the call and smiled at the dish in his hand, “tomorrow.”

 

******

 

          Trixie had been worried that maybe Re—Liam, Liam, dammit—might be wanting to talk about their near kiss, and she actually put a rather ridiculous amount of effort into her appearance, considering that they would be jogging. But they had been running for a while now and he hadn’t said much other than to point out a rabbit, and warn her of a hole.

          She’d spent a good part of the evening fretting over what he might say, and what _she_ would say in return, and whether or not there was anything _to_ say, and had gone to bed annoyed with herself for acting like such a girl. There had even, though she would deny it to her death, been a hint of butterflies in her stomach when she saw him this morning.

          _This is ridiculous, you’re ridiculous. It’s Regan._ Regan. _It’s just Regan_.

          As her feet pounded the road, her mind chanted over and over, just Regan, just Regan, just Regan. But it wasn’t any use. Because it _wasn’t_ just Regan. It was Liam, damn him, in all his sexiness and his possibility and his potential heartbreak.

          They had run down Glen Road, past the Lynch’s, almost to Killifish Point then cut across the side street that went past the Inn and looped back toward the Manor House on County Road 5. It was a route they had taken often in years past. Sometimes they would reward themselves with a cold drink at Lytell’s before they took the junction to FM 4009, and skirting the edge of the Preserve, follow it back to where it deadened with Glen Road. Today, she wasn’t sure she would make it as far as Lytell’s without a break. Her schedule had been crazy lately, and although she made time to get to the gym at least three days a week, it had been too long since she ran.

          Trixie was about to suggest they slow down when her running partner surprised her by slowing his pace and then dropping to a walk. “You look a little winded. How about we cool off and grab some water at the Inn?”

          “Good idea,” she said, grateful for the rescue, but chafing at looking weak.

          They said hello to the receptionist—not Di, who would start later that day—and bypassed the restaurant for the juice bar, a new innovation. She paid for their Gatorades and they chose a table. It was quiet this early on a Monday, and they sat in a slightly uncomfortable silence. A few times she started to open her mouth, then she reviewed what she was about to say and shut up. Although Regan looked serene, she had a feeling he might be doing the same.

          _This is a bad idea_ , she worried, _if we can’t even talk to one another about it, then what will happen to our friendship if we ever act on these feelings?_ They were potentially changing an old dynamic, opening the door to misunderstanding, confusion, disaster. This could change everything.

          “So it’s almost like old times, huh? What with Di and Jim both moving back.”

          So maybe they weren’t seeing things the same. Maybe he wasn’t thinking that way about her at all.

          “Yeah, we just need Mart.”

          “It’s been a while since he came back, it doesn’t seem like he’ll ever move back to Sleepyside. I guess the bright lights of Vegas are too dazzling.”

          “I’d be surprised if he ever came back for good. I think he’s outgrown us.”

          “He’s a Belden, he still has his head screwed on straight, he’s just mesmerized by opportunities right now.”

          “I suppose. I wish for Moms and Daddy’s sake that he’d visit more.”

          “Well maybe now that Di and Jim are both back he’ll make an effort. Come to that Bob-White party Honey’s planning.”

          Trixie laughed, “It’s much bigger than a Bob-White party now. You’re invited of course.”

          “Thanks, but you all don’t want me there.”

          “Of course we do.” She was too forceful, too emphatic, but it was the truth. No matter what she was feeling personally, Regan was their friend and he would be a welcome addition.

          “As long as I’m not there to play chaperone.”

          She snorted, “I think we’re all a little old for chaperones, wouldn’t you say? Besides, Honey and Bri are engaged.”

          “Jim will be there.”

          It was a jarring thing for him to say, and it was obvious he said it just to jar her. She was annoyed, not just because he had thrown that out there to see what happened, but because she had enough of everyone acting like just because Jim was home they were going to automatically become a couple. Even Mart had hinted at it the other night on the phone.

          “So?” she asked cooly, cheeks burning with temper but her expression giving nothing away. She thought she saw a flash of pleasure in his face, but before he could answer, her phone rang.


	8. Loss and New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's death here, folks, and sadness, but this too shall pass. I edited this chapter but it was written in a bit of a rush, so please forgive any mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't too much of a bummer, this chapter sort of has me down. But Honey and Brian are the cutest.

_May_

          The persistent ringing of her phone woke Trixie out of a deep sleep; struggling to sit upright from where she had slumped over her desk, she reached for her cell, knocking over a paper cup of coffee, spilling the dregs over the papers scattered across the surface. Cussing and muttering under her breath, she swiped right but the call ended before she could answer. Using the napkins from her dinner –which had actually been her breakfast and lunch, and hadn’t been eaten until nearly midnight— to clean up the mess, she fumbled to call back her mom. It was nearly five thirty on Tuesday morning and aside from falling asleep for a few hours at her desk she hadn’t slept in over twenty four hours.

          Right now she wanted to stretch out on the squad room floor and sleep for two days, but Moms didn’t normally call this early in the morning, and she had a premonition that it wasn’t for good news. Waiting for her mother to answer, she checked the call log. Crap, Moms had called three times in the last half hour. Nervously, she bolted up from her desk and started to wind her way through the desks in the mostly empty room. Harris was murmuring on his office phone, glancing up at her with bloodshot eyes, and Jenni was still asleep at her desk, undisturbed by Trixie’s movements. It had been a hell of a long day, and they were both exhausted. Whatever this call might bode, it probably wasn’t anything good, and she didn’t want to have a potentially devastating conversation in the middle of work.

          The still rising sun was coloring the sky peach and gold, and the air was cool and damp. She leaned against the damp brick wall of the station and listened to the phone ringing. When the voicemail message started she twitched with impatience, but managed to wait until the end, leaving a quick message for her mother. Then she rubbed the dried sleep from her eyes and finger combed her hair while she pulled up the voice mail Moms had left.

          She listened in disbelief, hardly absorbing the message, and had to replay it to get the details. She called both her parents but neither answered, so she hurried back into the station and found her partner sitting groggily at her desk, starting at paperwork.

          “I’m so brain dead I can’t focus on what this says,” Jenni greeted her, “I don’t think coffee will help, I need sleep.” She got a good look at Trixie’s face and alarm entered her voice, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

          “My brother’s ex died.” Trixie dropped into her chair and buried her face in her hands. “Apparently it happened this weekend, and my brother called my parents yesterday and they were trying to reach me.”

          “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Jenni tentatively touched Trixie’s arm. “That’s awful, you must be in shock.”

          “I didn’t even know her, they weren’t exactly a couple. But they have a son, my nephew Justin. He’s only five.”

          “Oh, that poor boy.”

          “Yeah,” Trixie took a deep breath, “I’ve tried calling them, but they must be on the phone. Moms’ message said they were trying to get a flight out to Chicago, they’re probably trying to get tickets now.”

          “Listen, if you need to leave I can handle—“

          Trixie managed a smile, “Thanks, really. But I don’t even know when the funeral is yet. With everything going on here I want to know more before I start making plans.”

          “Why don’t  you head home? We could both use some real sleep. Unless you end up leaving for Chicago we can meet back here at noon.”

          “Sounds like a plan.”

          Luckily the drive home wasn’t far, because sleep was starting to overwhelm her again. She let herself into the house and was bombarded by yowling cats. “I’m sorry guys,” she stooped to pet them and then made her way with difficulty to the kitchen, the cats winding their bodies around her feet. Their automatic food and water bowls were fine, and she was too tired and worried to bother with checking the litter boxes. She gave them all some treats and they followed her upstairs. They arranged themselves on her bed while she stripped off her clothes and tried calling her parents again. Rather than leave another message, she texted them both that she was coming off a twenty four hour shift and going to sleep but to call her cell if they got a chance.

          All she wanted was to fall into bed, but she could smell herself. Yesterday morning—it felt like a million years ago—she had gotten called out to a hit and run and had raced home to throw on some clothes and head to the scene. Dried sweat from her run, the smell of the accident, hospital germs, it felt like it was all crawling over her. With a dispirited sigh she headed for the bathroom.

          After the world’s fastest shower she ran some product through her wet hair and pulled on panties and a t-shirt before crawling into bed with the cats. Just let her sleep for a few hours, and she could face anything.

 

*******

 

          Honey made sandwiches while keeping an ear out for the Beldens, who were in the den, making phone calls. Brian had been called into work yesterday because of a bad accident, and had come home late, and then been woken an hour after falling asleep when his father called to tell him about Julie. Honey had come to the Farm with him, of course, and they ended up staying there, but no one had gotten much sleep.

          She felt helpless as they comforted one another, called relatives, searched for flights and tried to reach Trixie. Honey had finally gone into the kitchen and started making food, knowing everyone needed to eat. There would be people stopping by later, once word spread. So for now she was making sandwiches and fretting.

          Brian stepped up behind her and wound his arms around her slender waist, hugging her to him and dropping his head to her shoulder. She could feel the sigh before his breath ruffled her hair. He didn’t lean his weight on her but she could sense his weariness, and she put down her knife and the jar of mustard so she could wrap her arms over his. They stood in silence for a few minutes before he roused himself to kiss her cheek. “Thank you for being here. I didn’t know Julie, but this is all so shocking and sudden…I can’t imagine not having you to get me through this.”

          “Poor Mart,” she murmured, turning in his embrace and looping her arms around his waist. “There’s no one with him.”

          “Julie’s parents live in the city, and her friends are there, but yeah, Mart doesn’t really know any of them. He’s got to be strong for Justin all by himself.”

          For the thousandth time, tears filled Honey’s eyes as she thought of the young woman who had died, and the little boy who must be devastated at the sudden loss of his mother. She had been trying to stay strong for the Beldens, but just for a moment she let herself cry, and let Brian comfort her.

          The ringing of her cell phone startled her, and after composing herself she pulled it from her pocket. “Trixie!” she exclaimed, “We’ve been trying to get ahold of you, but then your mom said you texted that you had been up all night so we thought we’d let you sleep.” She listened for a minute, “We’re all at the Farm. No, they got a flight for tomorrow, but there isn’t any word yet on the funeral. Brian and I are waiting for that before we make our arrangements. Okay, see you soon.”

          “She’s on her way. She was called to that hit and run, the one who’s victim you worked on yesterday.”

          Brian looked grim, “That was a bad accident.”

          “She’s got to check in at the station, but she said she should be here in an hour or two.”

          “She’ll probably be hungry. Let’s finish these sandwiches, then I want you to come sit down and put your feet up. Moms went to lay down, and Dad is going to pick up Aunt Alicia to come stay here while they’re out of town. I’m going to drive with him, so you can just rest while we’re gone.”

          Honey kissed him and they got to work on the pile of sandwiches.

 

******

 

          Madeleine Wheeler waited for her husband to answer his office line, “Hello darling. I just got off the phone with Honey. Peter and Helen are leaving for Chicago in the morning. I offered to have Tom take them to the airport.”

          “Of course, Maddie. Should we go after I get home from the City?”

          “I thought we would go, see if they need anything. Honey’s been there since last night, she said she made food and they don’t need anything, but I asked Cook to make a hamper of nibbles for us to take.” It was different living in the country, Madeleine reflected, here neighbors brought home made casseroles. In the City she would have had her caterer deliver a meal. Well she had never made a casserole and she wasn’t starting now.

          “What’s that? Hmm…? Oh, no, she’s going to fly out there with Brian for the funeral, but they don’t know when it is yet… Alright, get back to work, I’ll see you at six.”

          Madeleine ended the call and stared at the pile of unopened letters in front of her. She had scheduled a hard to get appointment with Jacque for this afternoon, but she was afraid Honey wouldn’t want to plan the wedding right now. Maybe she could make the decisions for her? A little niggling voice in the back of her head suggested that wasn’t a good idea, but she silenced it. A mother helping her daughter, who could object?

 

******

 

          Jim stepped into the Belden’s kitchen, bringing fresh air and energy with him. “I caught the train as soon as my meeting ended. Where is everyone?”

          Honey stood on tip toe to hug him; she was tall but her brother was taller. She inhaled his familiar clean, woodsy smell thankfully; even after a few days in the City, he still smelled like the outdoors. “Rob’s at school, Peter and Brian went to pick up Aunt Alicia, and Helen is napping. It was a rough night.”

          He squeezed her shoulder, “Poor Mart, what a thing to happen! I’m glad Justin has him, he’ll be so lost.”

          Honey felt awful, but she had been a little surprised to find out that Mart had walked out in between sets in Vegas, leaving for the airport as soon as he got word. She hoped that he would show the same diligence in guiding Just in through his loss;  Mart hadn’t exactly been very responsible for the last ten years or so, and he wasn’t present for most of Justin’s life, both before he knew about him and after. She couldn’t help but wonder if Mart was prepared to be a full-time parent.

          “You want something to eat?”

          “No thanks, I grabbed a snack on the train.” Jim looked around casually, “Where’s Trix?”

          Honey hid a smile in her iced tea, “She’s tied up at work. She said she would try to get away for an hour or two.” She wasn’t imagining his disappointment; Brian had told her to leave it alone, but part of her hoped her best friend and her brother would rekindle their romance. So far she had managed not to say anything to either of them, but it was hard.

          They went outside and sat on the low terrace wall, “Poor Trix had to answer a call to a hit and run early yesterday morning, and she was up until dawn this morning. She had to go home and take a nap but she was headed to the station when I talked to her before noon, and she’ll probably have to go back after she leaves here.”

          Jim looked disapproving, but all he said was that surely she could stop for a family emergency, and long enough to have lunch. Honey didn’t bother to point out that Trixie was dealing with someone else’s emergency, as part of her job, and that it was never a good idea to tell Trixie what to do. Instead she asked about his meeting wit h the architectural firm and they were still discussing his school when Helen came downstairs, and a short while later Trixie showed up, followed closely by Peter, Brian and Aunt Alicia.

          Honey smoothed over Aunt Alicia’s brusque greeting, kept Jim distracted before he could lecture Trixie—who had dark circles under her eyes, and whose curly hair looked like she had gone to bed on it wet and then ridden in the car with the windows down—and managed to direct everyone gently into sitting around the table and eating. With their mouths full there was a lot less opportunity for anyone to say anything unfortunate. She looked with satisfaction at her loved ones, eating the food she had prepared, and all getting along, and smiled a little. Brian watched her and smiled to himself, his girl was the epitome of graciousness, and once again she had exercised her world-famous tact and gotten everyone to do what she wanted without any of them realizing she had orchestrated it.

          Talk was naturally subdued, but after a while everyone was behaving more naturally, and by the time Trixie got up to leave, Jim was master of himself and didn’t object. Rob came in as his sister was leaving and gave her big hug, then descended on the food and stacked two sandwiches together into a monstrous double decker, and holding it in one big hand he scooped up a handful of chips with the other. Aunt Alicia immediately scolded him for his boorish behavior, but Helen just put a plate in front of him and mildly asked him to use his manners.

          Sheepishly he put his food on the plate, wiped his hands on his pants and meekly accepted his great-aunt’s abuse. Honey put a napkin and a glass of lemonade in front of him and he grinned at her thankfully. She had always had a soft spot for Bobby as a boy, and she thought he was a good kid, just a little thoughtless and very much a teenager. He wasn’t a scholar like Brian, or a clown like Mart, and he didn’t have Trixie’s curious nature; he was more physical than all of his siblings combined, he played football, baseball and had run track until he bulked up too much. He had a bigger appetite than even Mart’s, and he had one goal: to become a Marine.

          He ate three plates of food, then offered to take Reddy for a walk, and once he was gone Honey insisted Helen sit down while she cleaned up.  Jim helped and Brian went into the den with his dad and Aunt Alicia.

          “Trixie looked tired.”

          “She’s had a long day. She’ll bounce back after she gets some more sleep.”

          “She shouldn’t be working so hard. She needs a job where she has a normal schedule.”

          “Jim,” she said warningly, her heart sinking. If he went talking like that to Trixie, the two would never end up together. Before she could say anything more she heard the screen door squeak on its hinges and turned her head to see Diana enter the kitchen.

          “Sorry, I just go off work,” Di said breathlessly, hugging Honey and then Jim. “I checked my messages as soon as I was off the clock and I ran here from the Inn.”

          Honey was glad to see her friend, but she resolved to make time to talk to Jim later, once things had settled down. If he wanted a chance to start over with Trixie, he would have to come to terms with her job.

 

******

 

          “Sometimes I wonder why we do this job,” Jenni groaned, stretching her neck in an attempt to get rid of the crick that she had developed from sleeping at her desk. Trixie knew that’s what it was, because she had the exact same crick.

          “At least we normally get more sleep,” she offered, standing up and pacing down the hall. “Where’s that nurse at?”

          Their hit and run victim had been unconscious at the scene and rushed to the hospital, where she underwent several hours of surgery, and she had been in the ICU and mostly unconscious since she left recovery. The hospital had called to say that she had regained consciousness and they could come interview her, but then the nurse had insisted they would have to talk to the doctor first, and now here they were, waiting for fifteen minutes. If they didn’t get moving soon, Trixie was afraid she might fall asleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

          Her cell buzzed and she checked her messages; a text from Regan. It seemed like days had gone by since yesterday when she got the call and they had left the Inn and run back to the Manor House so she could get her car. Naturally nothing had been settled between them, and now she was almost reluctant to see what he had to say. But any distraction was welcome right now.

LIAM REGAN:    ‘I heard about Julie, I’m so sorry. Let me know if you need anything.’

          For some stupid reason her eyes filled with tears. “I need more sleep,” she muttered to herself, blinking hard. After a minute she typed out a reply, then put her phone away when she heard the nurse approaching.

 

******

 

          There were very few social situations that could best Madeleine Wheeler. Visiting a neighbor after the loss of their son’s…baby mama…was one of them. She legitimately felt sorry for the Beldens, but she had no idea how sympathetic she should be, nor what she should say. From what she understood, Mart and this Julie had never had an actual relationship, and in fact he hadn’t even known he had a son until the last year or so.

          Thank heavens her children hadn’t gotten tangled up with a situation like that, and ended up having a hard to explain child.

          Thankfully Matt’s natural warmth and big personality carried them through the most awkward bits, and she just drifted in his wake, murmuring condolences and pressing hands. Helen Belden offered them coffee and food or dessert, and she started to refuse, but then she saw the array of food around the kitchen and reconsidered. There was no way all of this would fit in the refrigerator, it would be only polite to eat. They offered their own basket, and were thanked, and in a short time they were seated in the den, balancing plates of food and cups of coffee.

          There hadn’t been many occasions when the Wheelers had come into the Belden home; a few Christmas drinks parties, graduations, but it struck her that the rooms felt different. Helen noticed her looking around and smiled, “It seems so strange to me, to see the walls so bare. But Peter and I have been sorting through all our belongings, getting ready for the move. It hardly feels like the Farm to me, it’s been mostly unchanged since I came here as a bride.”

          They talked about the move and the best Florida vacation spots and Helen’s love of painting and Madeleine relaxed with this normal social intercourse. The house was filling up as people left work and came to drop by the Belden home. Honey and Di were kept busy finding places for the food offerings, and Brian and Jim went out to make sure no one was blocking the road with their cars. Dan Mangan showed up and managed to charm the irritable Alicia Belden, keeping her distracted and preventing her from offending visitors, a feat Madeleine considered nearly impossible.

          Madeleine was just trying to catch Matt’s eye and send him a signal that they should leave, since the house was getting crowded and the Belden’s surely didn’t want everyone lingering, when she heard the distinctive sound of her son’s voice exclaim from the doorway to the kitchen, “Trixie! You look exhausted, you shouldn’t have driven, I’d have—“

          Whatever he was going to say was either covered by the noise of the crowded house, or he stopped talking abruptly. A minute later Madeleine could guess why, because Trixie was coming into the room—indeed looking ragged and sleepy—followed by a sheepish looking Regan. “Don’t worry about me, Jim,” she said over her shoulder, “Regan picked me up at the station.”

          Madeleine didn’t have to see her son’s face to know how he was taking this. He had always been possessive of Trixie, and he wouldn’t like not getting the chance to come to her rescue. Indeed, when he came up to her and suggested that maybe they should leave and let the Belden’s other visitors have their turn, she knew she was right. He was upset.

 

******

 

          Trixie was tired, but she wasn’t so tired that she didn’t know that Jim was less than thrilled to see her arrive with Regan and find out that she had called him for a ride instead of calling for Jim to come to her rescue. Frankly she didn’t care. Her brother had called her earlier, and he sounded rung out and lonely, he was running out of comforting words to offer his son; her hit and run vic was barely coherent and couldn’t remember much about the accident, she had only gotten about seven hours sleep in the last thirty seven hours and her stomach was growling in earnest.

   All she wanted was to see her family, eat some food and then go home and sleep. Jim and the Wheelers left, as did a few others, when they realized how late it was getting. The house cleared out, as she was making herself a plate, and by the time she entered the den, it was just family and her friends. She practically fell onto the couch between her dad and Di, and devoured her food while listening to the others talk.

          “It looks like the funeral will be Saturday, we can make reservations at our hotel for you kids.”

          Brian spoke up, “I’ll have to arrange my shifts at the hospital, but I think Honey and I can fly out Friday. Is that alright sweetheart, can you get another day off school?”

          Honey nodded, “I already talked to Gloria, I’m going to arrange a sub, so I can leave Friday. Is Rob coming with us?”

          “Please,” Helen said gratefully, “I don’t want him to miss too much school, it is his senior year.”

          “Trixie?” Her father asked. When he didn’t get an answer he turned to his daughter, but she was almost asleep and hadn’t realized anyone was talking to her. He roused her gently, “Maybe you should get on home. I’ll take you.”

          “That’s alright, Daddy, Regan can take me.”

          Peter looked at the other man inquiringly, and received an affirmative nod. “Well how about you two get going then, before you pass out?”

          Smothering a huge yawn, Trixie struggled to her feet. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get away for the funeral, honestly. But I’ll talk to the Chief tomorrow and see if he can spare me. But with this case…”

          “It’s alright, dear, we understand if you can’t make it. I hope the Chief gives you the go ahead though.”

          Hugs were exchanged and Helen pressed heaped plates of food on both of them, and they were waved off as Regan pulled his truck out of the long driveway and onto Glen Road. It was dark, and it was quiet in the truck; Trixie managed to keep awake, but it was a close thing. She could practically hear her bed calling her name. “I’m going to sleep so hard.”

          “You’ve had a rough couple of days, I hope you can make up for some of it tonight.”

          “Mmm,” she commented agreeably, as they turned on to her street. Regan pulled up along the curb and put the truck in park. “Do you want me to come inside with you? Anything you need before I leave?”

          Taking him completely by surprise, she slid closer, cupped his jaw in her hand and kissed him.

          It wasn’t a deep or long or passionate kiss, but it said everything she didn’t have time for. She pulled back, smiled sleepily at him in the soft glow from the console lights, “Goodnight Liam.” She slipped out of the truck with her plate of leftovers, and he waited until she opened her door and turned to wave at him. The door closed behind her and he sat for a moment before he pulled away from the curb and headed back toward Glen Road.

          She had kissed him. She called him Liam. He smiled the whole way home.

 

 

******

 

_Chicago_

          In the privacy of their hotel room, Helen slipped off her heels and laid across the bed without taking off the dress she had worn to the funeral. “Oh that was awful.”

          “I’m not sure there has ever been a funeral that wasn’t, but yes, it was very sad.” Peter took off his jacket and tie and put them away in the closet, then sat at one of the two chairs in the room to take off his shoes. He stretched and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ve been battling a headache for hours, do you have any aspirin?”

          “In my train case in the bathroom.”

          Peter called from the bathroom, “I’m going to order something from room service, do you want dinner?”

          “No thank you, dear, just some hot tea, and toast.”

          After he had placed the order he came and laid down on the bed with her, and she took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m glad the kids could all make it, I know it meant a lot to Mart.”

          “It’s too bad Diana just started her new job and couldn’t get the time away.”

          “Her flowers were lovely.”

          They lay in silence for a while, but at last Helen spoke hesitantly, “Peter, what do you think Mart is going to do about Justin?”

          “I imagine he’s hardly had time to give it any serious thought. There’s also the will that Julie left, he’ll need to wait and find out what her wishes were on the subject.”

          “I don’t know if he’s ready to be a full-time parent. But Justin has already had his world change so much, I hate to think of him going to live in Paris with Julie’s sister and being so far away.”

          “Dave and Evie may want to raise him.”

          “They’re older than us, I don’t know that I could handle a five year old at my age much less theirs.”

          “Mart might not be ready to be a single parent.”

          Helen was uncharacteristically stern, “Well he’ll just have to learn.”

 

******

 

          Finally, everyone had left, even Julie’s parents, and Mart and Justin were alone in Julie’s apartment. Justin had fallen asleep on the couch, and Mart picked him up so he could carry him to bed. He was grateful for everyone who had come to the funeral, and to the wake afterward, and for his family and Julie’s, but it was good to be alone in the apartment. The past week had been a rollercoaster of emotions and his head was spinning now that he was alone.

          He felt sorrow for Julie’s death, but it wasn’t a very personal feeling; they had essentially been strangers, tied together by their son. Texts and emails had comprised most of their communication since she informed him of Justin’s existence, and he had only spent a few minutes in her presence when he came to pick up or drop off Justin during his visits.

          No, the majority of his grief was for his son, and for Julie’s family, who were understandably devastated.

          What weighed most on his mind was what was going to happen next.

          They were supposed to meet with the lawyer on Monday, so Julie’s will could be read. Mart wondered if she had named him Justin’s guardian. He didn’t feel ready to be a full time dad, the thought terrified him. But he wasn’t prepared to walk away from his son, and the idea that Justin might move to Paris with Emily was untenable.

          Don’t borrow trouble, his dad had always told him, and he tried to keep that in mind as he tucked Justin in and made sure his night lights were on. Keeping the door cracked, he padded back down the hallway and searched for a clean glass. The fridge and freezer were bulging with foods, and half empty bottles of wine and liquor stood in regimented rows on the kitchen counter. He found some whiskey, added 7Up and dropped in a few ice cubes. He didn’t realize how tired he was until he sat down on the couch. After a while the silence got to be too much and he turned on the TV, channel surfing while he tried not to worry about the will. The weekend would last forever at this rate.


	9. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie and Liam finally explore what's going on between them. Honey makes a change and takes a stand. The gang has a barbeque and a few things are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, because I had the Prelude and the Interlude, this is actually chapter 7 but the system is counting it as chapter 9.

_May_

Normally when Trixie wasn’t at work, she wore jeans and a t-shirt, or athletic wear. She wasn’t too fussy about her hair, and make-up wasn’t a daily habit with her, the way it was with Honey.

          Today, though, the first time she was going to see Liam after kissing him, she wanted to look…nice.

          It had been over a week since he drove her home. Between work and flying to Chicago for the funeral, they hadn’t seen one another since that night. They had texted more than normal, but the nature of the texts hadn’t really changed. She thought they might be waiting to see one another again, in case they said too much. She kind of had a history of shooting her mouth off and wrecking delicate situations, and the thought that something she said could destroy the fragile beginnings of a relationship with someone who was so terribly important to her, made her feel a sweaty kind of panic.

          Work had gone well, although they hadn’t had any new leads on any of their cases, but she and Jenni were able to catch up on paperwork and toss around some ideas. Trixie drove home and said hello to the cats, sorted through her mail and then took a quick shower, although she carefully pinned her hair up out of the way. After drying off she put on some of the scented lotion Moms had given her for her birthday, and took the time to put on lipstick and waterproof mascara, even going so far as to add a dash of eyeliner and a little blush.

          After a frankly ridiculous amount of internal debate and waffling in front of her closet, Trixie put on a pair of gray boot-cut trousers, a thin white t-shirt, a denim blazer and kitten heels. Looking at herself in the mirror, Trixie was worried that she looked too bland, so she dug around in her jewelry and found a chunky necklace in iridescent pinks, peaches and greens, and put it on. She left her hair loose and dumped her stuff out of the serviceable cross-body purse she normally carried and stuffed it all into a nicer handbag. All Liam had said in his text was that he wanted to take her out to dinner, but he hadn’t provided any clues as to where they were going. A dress might be the better choice for a first date— _was_ this a first date? Was she reading too much into it?—but she didn’t wear them often, and she didn’t want to look too dressed up, especially if they ended up at Wimpy’s.

          Despite her extra primping and difficulty choosing an outfit, she was ready nearly ten minutes early and she sat on the sofa and fiddled with her phone. Why was she so nervous? It was, after all, just Liam. Granted, this was a whole new dynamic for them, but shouldn’t she be less nervous at going out with him than a stranger? With so much riding on the line she was slightly terrified of messing it all up.

          Thankfully for her nerves, he showed up a few minutes early. Leaping up, she startled Screech, who had been lounging on the back of the couch, and now shot off with a yowl. Grabbing her purse she opened the door, and smiled nervously and managed a breathy sounding, “Hey.”

          He smiled, looking devilishly handsome in leather loafers, jeans, a button down and a suit coat; Trixie couldn’t think of the last time she had seen him in something besides riding boots or running shoes. His red hair was freshly barbered and she could smell a faint whiff of cologne, which surprised her, since she didn’t associate Liam with cologne.

          “Hey yourself…you look beautiful.”

          Predictably, she blushed, and hoped that her face wasn’t too bright. If she was lucky he would pretend he hadn’t noticed.

          “Pink is a good color on you,” he teased, and his smile made her heart flutter in far too girly a manner.

          “Ha ha,” she retorted, glad that the awkward moment had passed when she wondered if they would kiss hello or not, and having an answer to her worries that kissing him the first time had changed their easygoing ways. While there was a new flirtatiousness to his manner, she didn’t feel uncomfortable. “Did you want to come in, or…?”

          “I made reservations for seven-thirty, so we should probably hit the road.”

          He helped her into his truck and she buckled her seat belt, willing herself to rein it in. _Down girl_ , she thought with a mix of amusement and amazement, _all he did was put his hand on your waist._ The jolt of energy that shot through her when Liam touched her had to be a fluke, just a reaction to heightened nerves.

          They drove down the river road in the deepening dusk, chatting easily. Trixie began to relax, and look forward to the evening. It was silly to be this edgy over dinner with someone she had known for half her life.

          “So where are we going? Or is our destination a mystery?”

          “Ah, I missed a real opportunity there; I could have made this a mystery dinner, and given you clues to solve before we could go. Next date.”

          The casual way he assumed the evening would be a success and that the two of them would be going out again caused a little bubble of happiness to swell in her chest, and she didn’t even realize she was smiling at him until he glanced over and smiled back. “Well it looks like I’m doing something right if I put that smile on your face.”

          “Uhn,” Trixie’s throat tightened, strangling her response. She couldn’t manage anything more intelligent than that, and hoped he hadn’t noticed.

          Liam checked his rear view mirror, slowed and pulled off onto the side of the road, putting the truck in park and turning to face her. He took her hand in his, “What’s wrong, Trix? Nervous?” At her nod he looked down at her hand, “A good kind of nervous or are you wondering how to get out of this? Maybe we shouldn’t have—“  
          Squeezing his hand, she felt some of her apprehension leave her; it was comforting to know that he might be less self-possessed than he appeared and it calmed her to not be alone in her case of jitters. “I am nervous, but I want you.” Blushing furiously, she blurted, “This! I meant I want this. Ugh, this date—ing, dating thing…this--- oh, hell, shoot me now.”

          She felt him shake a little with laughter, but when she looked at him, his smile was tender, not teasing. “Okay, so you’re even more nervous than me. This is a little weird, isn’t it?”

          Letting her head fall back against the headrest she smiled ruefully, “It is…but I’ve been looking forward to it. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week.”  
          His big hand squeezed hers, pinching her fingers together, but she didn’t mind, she needed something to ground her, because the way he was looking at her was making her feel like an untethered balloon. “So have I,” he assured her huskily, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

          Heart thundering, she ducked her head and wondered if he would kiss her. She hadn’t felt this way since she was—well, since never. No one had ever made her feel like this; before Liam she would have thought that this kind of heady attraction was just something they wrote about in bad romance novels. After a minute he did lean in and kiss her, but it was on her temple, then he whispered in her ear, “Let’s get going. Much as I want you, I’m not going to make out in the truck on the side of the road like a teenager.”

          Laughing, she smiled up at him, “Spoilsport.”

          Putting the truck in gear he pulled back onto the road, “Dinner first, then we can have dessert.”

         

 

******

 

          Despite his teasing words, Liam wasn’t actually expecting that things would get very physical between them tonight. Not saying he didn’t want more; cliché or not, he was a red-blooded male, and his attraction to Trixie had been growing for months. But he was reluctant to rush things and ruin it. He definitely wasn’t going to move too fast and turn what he hoped might be a relationship into a one-night stand. As close knit as the Beldens, Wheelers and Lynches were, he might have to get a new job if things tanked. But tonight wasn’t a night for worry, he intended on them having a good time and hopefully figuring out what this thing was between them.

          “I’ve never even heard of this place,” Trixie said in surprise, looking around Orfino’s Restaurant. “Of course, I haven’t come to Briarcliff Manor in years.”

          “This is my first time here too, but the reviews are good,” Liam said, neglecting to mention the amount of time he had spent trying to decide on a restaurant, checking reviews, looking at menus and second guessing himself. “I thought if we got out of Sleepyside there was less chance of us being the subject of gossip.”

          She tilted her head and fixed her baby blues on him, “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

          “No, but if this doesn’t work out…well, I figured maybe you’d be more comfortable if the whole village didn’t know we had tried dating and failed.”

          She leaned across the table, “Do you always go on dates assuming that they won’t work out? Or is it just me?”

          “Uh…well, no not really, but I mean, well, if this is too weird for you…”

          “Is it too weird for you?”

          “No,” he said warily, unsure what she was thinking. “I’ve given this a lot of thought.”

          “It’s not too weird for me.”

          “Even though you haven’t thought of me like this before?” he asked, relaxing a bit.

          The waiter arrived and spent time introducing himself, telling them about the specials and recommending his favorites. They ordered drinks and after a bit of discussion they decided to split the crab cakes. Alone again, he wondered if the moment were gone and Trixie would steer the conversation to general subjects and this would be their only date.

          Apparently not, however, for she was looking at him with that intent expression, a smile playing around her mouth, “Liam, not to shock you or anything, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about you like this. I had a tremendous crush on you when I was in college.”

          His face heated up and he couldn’t help but smile, although he hoped it wasn’t obvious how great that made him feel, “Ohhhh really?” He drew it out teasingly, trying to act as if he weren’t feeling kind of cocky now.

          She leaned back in her chair and smiled cheekily at him, “Pretty pleased with yourself, are you?”

          “I have to admit it’s a bit of an ego boost to know a college girl had impure thoughts about me.”

          She squawked indignantly, “I did not have impure thoughts about you, Liam Regan!” Her red face belied her words and he laughed, reaching for her hand, “Too bad, I guess I’m the only one.”

          The waiter came to deliver their drinks and Trixie sat blushing and wishing that her face weren’t so red. She took a grateful sip of her drink and hoped that they could talk about something else. She looked around the cozy, dimly lit dining room and thought that he had chosen well; the restaurant was nice, the atmosphere charming, but it wasn’t too intimate or romantic for a first date. It _was_ a little calming to think that no one they knew was here, it took a little of the pressure off the night.

          Once they were alone again, Liam looked down at her hand, which was still in his, “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, and we can talk about something else, but I just want to say one thing first.” He looked into her eyes, “Maybe this won’t work out, and tonight will be our only date, and I’m okay with it if that’s your decision.” He stopped and took a deep breath, slightly uncomfortable with how much they were talking about feelings. “But I already know I want more.”

          His words made her feel a bit swoony, and she hoped her eyes weren’t shining in too lovesick a manner, “I think we should see how the night goes…but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want…” she hesitated, gripped by a sudden shyness, then blurted out, “…you.”

 

******

 

          Trixie hadn’t told anyone she was going out with Liam. There were very few secrets between her and Honey, but she hadn’t wanted to say anything until it was all over. If the evening were a success then she could tell her all about it. But she hadn’t wanted to jinx it by saying anything ahead of time. Also, she was not looking forward to all the amazement, speculation and teasing she was no doubt in for when everyone found out.

          Tonight, however, she was on a high, and the reaction of her loved ones was the last thing on her mind. Once they got past their awkwardness it had been a great evening, they lingered for more than two hours over their meal, then Liam drove her home and regretfully declined her invitation to come inside for more coffee. They ended up sitting in the truck for another half hour, talking, before she finally went inside.

          He had walked her to the door, a courtesy she wasn’t used to from dates, and after she had unlocked the door she turned and looked up at him, hoping they would kiss and that none of her neighbors would be outside just then. With any luck they weren’t, because otherwise they would have gotten an eyeful. What started out as a kiss goodnight quickly got heated and before she knew it her back was pressed to the door and Liam’s arms were wrapped around her and his embrace pulled her not only closer to him, but higher up, so that only the toes of her shoes touched the ground.

          With great reluctance she felt him pull away from her, and looking into his face she saw that he was as affected as she was. “I’d better tell you goodnight,” he said roughly, pushing her hair off of her face and touching her cheek and temple as if he couldn’t help himself.

          “I had a wonderful time,” Trixie said, thinking how inadequate that sounded. Suddenly she laughed, “I don’t know about you, but I’m wondering how we made it this many years without anything happening.”

          Leaning in for another kiss, he smiled against her lips, “Maybe the moment wasn’t right.”

          “It is now,” she murmured, sliding her hands around his waist and pulling him to her. Screw slowing it down, her libido urged, he feels good. And he did, so good she couldn’t believe it. Apparently clichés about sparks and chemistry weren’t a bunch of bull after all.

          “I’m about five minutes from us taking this way too fast,” he said regretfully, easing away from her and putting his hands on the door instead of her body. “Tell me goodnight and go inside.”

          “Goodnight, Liam,” she whispered, drawing her hands slowly away from him and turning to open the door.

          “Goodnight,” he told her huskily, and waited until she was inside and he heard the door lock before he left. In spite of the cold shower in his immediate future he couldn’t stop smiling.

 

******

 

          A couple of days later, Liam was in the barn cleaning out stalls when Trixie showed up and surprised him.

          He leaned his pitchfork against the wall of the empty stall and dusted his hands off on his jeans, “Hey gorgeous,” he greeted her as she stepped into the barn calling his name.

          “Hi,” she said happily, smiling broadly when she caught sight of him. As naturally as if she had been doing it for years, she walked right into his arms and kissed him. He smiled down at her upturned face, “Well hello.”

          Trixie gave him another kiss and locked her arms around his waist, “I thought I’d come see you on my lunch hour.”

          “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but shouldn’t you eat something?”

          “I had a granola bar in the car on the way here.”

          He mock frowned, “Not good enough. What if you have to run after bad guys? You need more than that. C’mere.” With her hand in his he walked down the long barn to his office and gestured to a seat, “I’ll be right back.” A few minutes later, hands washed, he came back. Reaching in the mini fridge he pulled out two sandwiches and cans of soda. Handing her one of the sandwiches and a strawberry cola, he snagged a bag of chips off the desk. “Lunch is served, milady.”

          Trixie wrinkled her nose at him, “Were both of these for you?”

          He waved her concern away, “If I get hungry later I can always grab something. Eat.”

          She popped open the can and took a drink, “I can’t believe you still keep these in the fridge.”

          “Well they are disgustingly sugary, but I know how much you love them. I keep ‘em around for you.”

          That earned him another kiss, and they sat back smiling at one another. They chatted idly, already pretty well informed on what had been going on with one another, since they had been texting every day since their date. “How’s your hit and run going? Any progress?”

          Since Trixie couldn’t divulge details and they were frustratingly short of leads, she just shook her head. “Ditto for the robbery and as for finding any info about the truck that was parked on the far side of the Preserve…” she shook her head again and took a bite of her sandwich, “Maddeningly little progress about sums it all up.”

          Liam polished off his sandwich, “You usually solve the case, and you’re just having a streak of bad luck right now.” Producing a box of Hostess cupcakes from a desk drawer, he held them out invitingly. Trixie bit her lip, “Better not, I have that bridesmaid dress to fit into.”

          He scoffed, “That’s months away! Split one with me.” She accepted and they were finishing their dessert when Jim stuck his head in the office. “Trix! Hi! I thought I saw your car outside. Just the person I wanted to see. Come up to the house with me?” Her mouth full, Trixie couldn’t object –or even answer—and Jim hardly waited to see if she was following. Shrugging apologetically at Liam, she followed Jim up to the house.

          “I’ve hardly seen you since I got home,” Jim said, putting his arm across her shoulders and smiling down at her. “You’re looking really good, Trix.”

          “Thanks,” she smiled and wished he would take his arm off of her. Once she wouldn’t have minded, once she would have been thrilled. Now she worried that Jim was seeking something that wasn’t there anymore; and she hated the thought of Liam looking out of the barn and seeing them so intimate. The next minute she forgot all about that as she listened to Jim’s proposal.

 

******

 

          Honey brooded on her wedding as she sat next to Brian on the couch in his and Dan’s apartment. Dan was out on a date, and she and her fiancé had eaten dinner and were watching _The Night Manager_. She absently admired the hairstyle of the character Jed, played by Elizabeth Debicki; when Di had mentioned donating her hair to Locks of Love, Honey had been struck by the idea. Of course, she _had_ been growing her hair out for the wedding, and it was longer than it ever had been, although she had always worn it long.

          Brian squeezed her thigh, “You look like you’re a million miles away.”

          Honey sighed, “I am. I can’t stop thinking about what Mother did.”

          Brian paused the TV and turned to look at her, “I know you’re upset, sweetheart, but what’s done is done. Worrying about it won’t change things, and it will only stress you out. When the big day is over, ultimately it won’t matter.”

          “I know, I do…but I’m so tired of Mother micro-managing everything. I don’t think she got why I was upset.”

          _Probably because you didn’t let yourself get mad_ , Brian thought ruefully.

          During the week between Julie’s death and the funeral, Madeleine had talked to Jacque and together the two women had decided on—and ordered-- wedding favors, and despite the fact that Honey and Brian had already talked to a local friend about deejaying for them, the two women had cancelled those plans and taken advantage of an opening in the schedule of a very exclusive combo to provide music for the reception. Honey was burning with resentment that they had made those decisions without her input, but the reason her mother had done it was kindly meant, and so she was trying to swallow her anger and act normally.

          Unfortunately, Brian was bearing the brunt of her negative feelings; almost the only thing they had talked about during dinner was Madeleine’s actions, and now Honey wasn’t even paying attention to the mini-series they had been enjoying for the last several weeks.

          “I’m sorry,” Honey apologized, “I’ll stop thinking about it and just enjoy our show.” She dropped her head onto his shoulder and patted his leg, “I promise.”

          Brian kissed her hair and pressed play, but both of them watched the rest of the episode with distracted minds.

 

******

 

          Sucking in a deep breath, Honey straightened her shoulders and walked into the living room of the Manor House with more bravado than she felt. Brian was running late and would meet them later. She was anticipating a negative reaction from her mother and would have liked his support. Not that he wouldn’t be surprised either! “Hello Mother, Daddy.”

          “Darling,” her father greeted her from the sideboard, “would you like a drink before dinner?”

          Her mother looked up from the flower arrangement she was fiddling with and actually gasped, “Madeleine Wheeler!” Her face, under her perfectly applied make-up, looked paler than usual, “What on earth have you done to your hair?”

          Matt turned at his wife’s shocked question but his expression eased when he saw his daughter. “Why Honey, you look wonderful!”

          She touched her newly shorn hair with a shaking hand, “Thank you, Daddy.” Turning to her mother she smiled and asked much more calmly than she felt, “What do you think, Mother?”

          It looked as if her mother might actually cry, “But Honey…darling, you’ve been growing your hair out for ages for the wedding; why would you chop it all off?”

          “I dyed it too,” Honey said brightly, “Just some highlights, but it’s a lighter blonde than usual.” She smiled at her father, “I’d like an Old Fashioned, please.”

          “But the beautiful hairstyles we were looking at! And you can’t wear a veil now.”

          “I decided that I can wear my hair how I like it for my wedding,” Honey spoke deliberately, “and I like it like this. I feel very fresh and new and I think it looks great.”

          “It looks wonderful like that,” her father spoke heartily as he crossed the room to hand her the freshly made cocktail; her mother was silent, and Honey wondered if she had gone too far. “I donated my hair,” she said a bit lamely. Her courage was failing her so she hurried on. .”I was very busy today. I also called Patrick and told him we still want him to DJ the ceremony,” her mother looked up swiftly, and Honey gulped, “And I instructed Jacque to cancel the wedding favors. I picked some out with Brian and we want those.”

          Following a fortifying mouthful of liquid courage, she continued, “It was very sweet of you to take charge of those decisions for me, Mother, while I was so distracted with the funeral. But Brian and I still want to feel like it’s our day. So please don’t do it again.” By the time she had finished speaking her muscles were quivering from pent up anxiety and her stomach churned.

          After a moment of silence her mother looked up and smiled stiffly, “Of course, darling. I just wanted to help.”

          Honey put her drink down and sat next to her mother, “You have been a tremendous help…and I—Brian and I both hope you’ll continue to help us! You have such impeccable taste and I want my wedding to be as beautiful as all the pictures of you and Daddy’s wedding. But I want it to feel like my day,” she finished in a small voice. Something in her tone caused her mother’s face to soften, and she gave her daughter a hug and an unaccustomed kiss. “Anything you want, my sweet girl.”

          Jim, who had obeyed her text asking him to give her a few minutes alone with their parents, walked into the room then, and his presence lightened the mood.

          By the time Brian arrived, they were all in accord, and it was hard for Honey to decide if he was more surprised by her new hair or the fact that she had stood up to her mother—in the nicest possible way, of course.

 

******

 

          It was Saturday, and Helen had blocked all of Peter’s proposed plans for the day and demanded that he accompany her to the attics and help her decide what to do with the generations of Belden belongings that had accumulated there. “Can’t we just throw it all away?” asked Rob, who had been roped into providing the muscle for anything she wanted moved.

          Fighting exasperation, Helen consulted the list she had started on her clipboard, “No, Bobby, we can’t. There are a lot of antiques up here, and some very sentimentally important things. Okay, Peter, I put an orange tag on the things we know we want, and those boxes are old school papers and awards for the kids…they can go through those if they want to keep them. There’s a lot here that the kids can pick and choose from. I need you to help me cull out the stuff that can be thrown away or donated. Maybe we should give your brother a chance to choose some of the family heirloom pieces?”

          Peter was overwhelmed, “Maybe we shouldn’t sell…we can just rent the house and leave all this stuff here.”

          _If only one of the kids wanted to live here_ , Helen thought for the thousandth time. As much as she was looking forward to retirement and living in Florida, the idea of some stranger living at Crabapple Farm filled her with sadness. From the time she had first come to the farmhouse when she started dating Peter, she had loved the old house and the twisted crabapple trees in the orchard. Living here had given her a sense of continuity that she hadn’t had growing up in an apartment in Tarrytown.

          After a few hours of hard work the attic was starting to look more organized, and Helen was congratulating herself on the work she had gotten out of her men. But Rob was complaining of hunger—huge breakfast not withstanding—so she finally snapped a trifle impatiently that he could heat up the pizza she had in the freezer.

          “One pizza for all three of us?” Rob asked incredulously; he was able to polish off an entire large pie by himself.

          “Make a salad,” Helen instructed him tersely. She tried not to feel guilty at his hangdog expression as he went to make the three of them lunch. His drill sergeants in Marine Corp boot camp would be tougher than that, plenty of time for him to learn to take care of himself. She had always babied her youngest—they all had. Frankly, the idea of living thirteen hundred miles from her children was giving her nightmares and filling her with doubts about their retirement plans. Peter, on the other hand, seemed to be filled with nothing more than anticipation.

          Surveying the work they had accomplished, she looked at the growing piles. “I’ll ask the kids to come over tomorrow and pick out what they want.”

          “Maybe they’ll haul it away while they’re here,” Peter said hopefully.

          Unable to keep from laughing at his optimism, she gave him a peck on his dusty cheek, “You’re cute,” she teased.

          “I wonder if we can get Mart to bring Justin for a visit? He could look through this; give us a chance to spend time with our grandson. I think a break from Chicago would be good for both of them.”

          His wife agreed; they hadn’t talked to Mart so much in ages as they had since Julie died. He was always calling for advice, or just to vent his worries and frustrations. Helen thought he sounded a little overwhelmed by his sudden emersion into full-time parenthood.

          Rob finally hollered up the stairs that lunch was ready, and they decided they had accomplished enough for the day. Helen planned on calling all the kids after eating, hopefully she could convince Mart to come for a few days.

 

******

 

          The following Saturday Helen looked around at her loved ones gathered on the shores of the pretty willow-fringed lake that lay between the Manor House and Crabapple Farm; with the exception of Trixie, who was running late, and Mart and Justin, whose plane had landed earlier, and who were on their way from the city in a rental car, everyone was there. The Beldens, Lynches, and Wheelers had gathered to enjoy the warm weather, celebrate Trixie and Mart’s birthdays, and do a little early celebrating for the encroaching high school graduation of Rob, Terry and Larry.

          Dan was there, with Trixie’s new partner, whom it turned out he had been seeing for a while; unless Helen missed her guess, he was a little nervous about Trixie’s reaction. Fay Franklin had also been invited, but was unable to attend, but Helen had invited her to come by later and take a look at some of the things in the attic that they were getting rid of. Tom, Celia, Liam and Marge were in attendance as well, and Liam and Jim had taken control of the big barbeque pits at the edge of the dock and wonderful smells were starting to emerge.

          Everyone had brought dishes of pasta salads, vegetables, snacks and dips, and several large ice chests overflowed with water, soda and juice, as well as a variety of beers. Helen resolved to keep a close eye on Rob, the Lynch twins and their teen friends…they were good kids but there was no use pretending they might not want to sneak off and have a few beers when none of the adults were looking.

          Earlier in the day several EZ-ups had been erected, and all the families brought picnic tables, card tables and lawn chairs to supplement the long picnic table and benches on the edge of the grass next to the dock. It boded well to be a beautiful day. Helen was looking forward to seeing Mart, and ecstatic at the idea that Justin would be coming to stay the week as well; surely no grandparent ever felt that they saw their grandchild enough, but in their case, visits with Justin were rare. His increased presence was one good thing to come out of Julie’s death, although the thought was one she kept to herself.

          She was also looking forward to seeing Trixie; her daughter had been by so rarely in the last few weeks and they had only talked on the phone once or twice. Maybe she was just busy with work, but Helen wondered if perhaps her daughter was seeing someone.

          Shortly, a strange car could be seen driving up the curve of Glen Road and within a minute it had parked and Mart and Justin emerged. The little boy was shy, hugging his father’s arm and not saying much to the friends and family that crowded around hugging and greeting the pair. He brightened a little at Mart’s suggestion that they change in the boathouse in case he wanted to have a swim; and when Celia and Tom’s little girl, Mei, whom they had adopted a few years before, when it was clear they couldn’t have children, ran up to him and grabbed his hand and tugged him down to the sand where she was building an elaborate sandcastle, it appeared as if he was happy.

          “Come help us burn the meat,” Jim greeted his friend, putting a beer in his hand. They moved off to the barbeque pits and Helen settled back to chat with Madeleine, Ellen Lynch and Marge Trask. “Where’s Trixie?” she heard her son ask.

          “She’s on her way, she’s bringing her old partner, Sheila, with her,” Brian explained.

          Helen listened with half a mind to the other women, who were discussing summer plans. She had always liked Trixie’s partner, Sheila, who was now Sargent at the station, and she knew it couldn’t be easy for her to raise two children on her own, even if her mother lived with her. Perhaps, Helen mused, Liam would be a good match for her; they were around the same age, he was great with kids, had an excellent job, and he hadn’t dated anyone in ages that she knew of.

          Not long after, Trixie pulled up and hopped out of her Subaru, followed by Sheila Tran, her eight year old daughter Daisy, her six year old son Ethan and her elderly mother, Nan. They came loaded down with chairs, blankets, towels and beach bags, and Jim rushed to help them unload, smiling down at Trixie.

          “Hello!” Trixie called out cheerfully, “Sorry we’re late. It took us a while to get all this stuff loaded, the kids kept thinking of things they absolutely had to bring.” She laughed and watched Daisy and Ethan race down to the shore to throw themselves into playing with Mei and Justin. “I think everyone knows Sheila? And this is her mom, Nan. Guys, this is…everyone!” She put down her beach bag and thanked Jim for carrying the cooler she had brought. Moving right past him she walked up to Liam, put her arms around him and they kissed. “Hello baby,” she said smiling up into his face.

          “Hi, gorgeous.”

          If there had been a record playing, Helen thought it would have screeched to a stop, like in movies. She was amazed to see her daughter apparently in a relationship with the Wheeler’s groom, and wondered why this was the first she had heard of it. Judging from Honey’s bewildered face, her best friend hadn’t informed her either. And poor Jim looked poleaxed.

          After an awkward minute, everyone resumed as if nothing had happened. Peter offered to keep an eye on the meat so “the kids” could swim. The teenagers were already splashing and screaming in the water, and everyone else was down to their bathing suits. Trixie shocked everyone once more, when she stepped out of her sandals and white shorts and pulled what had looked like a very short black sundress off over her head. Underneath she wore a bikini, a pair of camo print bottoms and a turquoise blue bandeau style top.

          “What gives, squaw?” Mart said in mock amazement, “is that a _female_ bathing suit I see you wearing?”

          Trixie tossed her head at him and pulled her hair up into a messy bun on top of her head, “Funny as ever, I see. Yes, this is what we call a bikini.”

          “You look great, Trix,” Brian offered, as he tugged on Honey’s hand, “Last one to the raft is a rotten egg!” They swarmed into the water, racing for the floating dock in the middle of the lake, joined by Tom and Liam. Celia shook her head and went to sit down with Jenni, Sheila and her mother, “That water is too cold for me,” she confessed. Jenni smiled, “I’m not bothered by cold water, but it’s that time of the month and I didn’t feel like getting in the water.” They watched the group rapidly cover the distance to the raft.

          Honey, as always, was declared the winner, and Mart came up a puffing last. “Sheesh,” he complained, “did you guys plan that or what?”

          There was a general chorus of laughter, for Mart, who had always loved to eat, had packed on the pounds over the years; he stood a burly 5’ 8” and with his hairy arms and legs and full beard he looked less like a swimmer and more like a bear who had wandered into their midst.

          Tom shivered and dove off the platform and struck out for shore. The rest swam and dove, playing, much as they always had done, trying to act as if having Liam in their group wasn’t a little strange.

          Trixie hooked her arms over his shoulders and they paddled in place, smiling at one another. “You took me by surprise,” he confessed _sotto voce_ , since they weren’t that far from the others, “I thought maybe you didn’t want anyone to know about us.”

          She looked at him like he was crazy, “Why would I want that?”

          He shrugged sheepishly, “Well…”

          Seeming to hear all the doubts and insecurities he was trying to suppress, she nuzzled his nose with hers and pressed a series of tiny kisses to his lips and jaw, “I’m crazy about you,” she said simply, “I don’t care who knows.”

          “Oh, yeah?” Liam asked gruffly, but he was unable to stop a pleased smile from spreading across his face.

          “Yeah,” they kissed a bit more, but after a moment he murmured in her ear, “I better swim a few laps, cold water or not, having you this close in that tiny bikini is killing me.”

          Trixie giggled but disentangled her arms from his shoulders and climbed onto the raft. “Say,” She demanded, squeezing excess water out of her hair and wrapping it back into a bun, “where’d everyone go?”

          Diana grinned wickedly, “Well, while love’s young dream was necking, Mart decided to go play in the shallows with Justin, Brian and Dan went to check on the barbeque, and Jim,” she continued a bit more soberly, “is swimming around the lake like a madman.”

          Honey bit her lip and watched her brother move energetically through the water, “He was a little hurt to see you and Liam like that, Trixie.” Her woeful expression indicated that he might not be the only one hurt to not have been forewarned.

          “I’m sorry, Honey,” Trixie gave her an impulsive one-armed hug. “I wasn’t trying to be secretive. It all happened so fast, and honestly? Liam and I have just been in that sort of honeymoon phase where you’re crazy about each other and want to spend all your time together.” A luminous smile lit her face, “I’ve been going around with my head in the clouds.”

          Honey softened, “Gee, I’m glad to see you so happy,” she confessed, but she bit her lip, “I guess this means you and Jim won’t be getting back together?”

          Trixie sat cross legged and smiled tenderly at her best friend, “Honey, I know that’s what you’ve always hoped, but even if Liam and I weren’t dating, it wouldn’t happen. I adore Jim, you know that, but we didn’t work as a couple.”

          Diana broke the serious mood that had fallen over them, “I’m surprised your dad survived your arrival, Trix. In five minutes you knocked everyone for a loop…first you give Liam that Hollywood clinch, and then you reveal your new va-va-voom bikini.”

          The three of them laughed, and Trixie threw back her head, “I _do_ feel pretty sexy, I have to say.” She dropped her chin and smiled back at the two of them, “C’mon, let’s go see if anyone needs a hand getting lunch ready. I skipped breakfast and I’m starving.”

          On shore, Liam was politely ignoring Mart and Brian’s rather pointed looks of appraisal and helping Tom move the burgers, hot dogs and chicken to platters. So far, none of Trixie’s family had come to challenge him on his relationship with their girl, but he had a feeling a talk wasn’t far off. Mart and Brian were quite protective of their only sister. “You dropped a hell of a bombshell on everyone,” Tom commented quietly, as they raked out the embers and closed the covers. “I expect that’s why young Jim is still churning up the lake.”

          Liam felt sympathy for him, but as far as he was concerned, Trixie was his, for as long as she wanted him, and Jim had lost his chance years ago _. I wonder if she feels that way?_ Asked a subversive internal voice.

         


	10. Heat Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's July, Sleepyside is sweltering under the mid-summer sun and things are starting to heat up. Trixie and Liam reach another level of intimacy. Diana thinks about making a change to her life, while Dan admits he's more serious about Jenni than any other woman he's dated. Brian and Honey enjoy the 4th of July celebrations with their friends. Mart and Justin prepare for a big change. A shocking crime may have links to bigger issues in sleepy little Sleepyside.

_July_

          Dan let loose a cab-halting whistle and clapped his hands, “Good swing, Maddox! Keep your eye on the ball and follow through!” He kept his eyes on the eight year old currently at bat, but spoke to Trixie, who was leaning against the chain-link fence next to him. The two of them were coaches for the Panthers, a Pinto League team comprised of seven to eight year old youths from Sleepyside. “So I talked to the Chief. About me and Jenni, I mean.”

          “Oh yeah?” he could feel Trixie look at him just as the crack of the bat striking the ball was heard, at the same time they both yelled, “Run! Run to first!”

          The Croton Ponies had left the field and the Panthers were running to position before Trixie asked, “How’d that go?”

          “Better than I might have hoped. He wasn’t too happy that we kept it to ourselves for this long, but we explained that we wanted to make sure it was going somewhere before we put it on the official record.” Dan turned his ball cap around backward and hooked his fingers in the chain-link, “It helped a lot that we came to him about it, rather than get ratted out. And since we work in different divisions, he was okay with it.”

          “I’m glad,” Trixie said, “Ohhh, my little Danny is growing up! He’s in a serious relationship!” She clasped her hands and batted her eyes, speaking in a high falsetto voice.

          “Shut up,” he retorted good-naturedly. “Christ, look at Dempsey, he’s playing with a bug or something.”

          Trixie laughed, “He’s seven, Dan, give him a break.” Nevertheless, she raised her voice and called to their outfielder, “Dempsey! Head’s up!” The little boy, whose uniform was grubby despite the lack of any slides on his part, looked up at his name, adjusted his prescription sport’s goggles and stood reluctantly. “Poor kid, I think he’d be happier in the Young Explorer’s Club, but his dad is convinced all of his sons have to be in sports.”

          “Our bad luck,” Dan muttered, smiling automatically at one of the team moms who was kitted out head to toe in the Panther’s colors of yellow and black, and walking the fence calling encouragement to the boys. Sleepyside was a small, relatively insular community, and parents were usually heavily involved in their children’s activities; community members of all ages tended to turn out for sporting events of all kinds. He had to remind himself not to complain too loudly about the skill level of certain kids, or the annoying amount of helicopter parenting most of the moms and dad displayed.

          The game ended 2-1 in favor of the Panthers, and the jubilant team poured into the dugout, leaping and shouting. They were clamoring for pizza, and it took a while before Dan and Trixie could get them organized for the traditional high fives with the Ponies. Parents began gathering belongings, while the boys ran around, hung upside down from the fence and rolled in the dirt.

          “Great game!” Honey enthused, walking up and smiling at the rowdy youngsters, many of whom were former students. She looked flawlessly cool and put together, as always, in a pale orange t-shirt and a cream and tan striped linen-blend wrap skirt. Honey was one of two people Trixie knew who could wear linen without it immediately wrinkling; Mrs. Wheeler was the other. “Way to go, Panthers!”

          The cheer was echoed by Di, who came up behind her, sno-cone in hand. Even with her lips stained red from the sno-cone, she looked beautiful, in a white sundress and roman sandals, with a purple Chinese parasol over her shoulder. Trixie was severely aware of her sweaty ponytail, ball cap, team shirt and cut-off capris. “We’re going for pizza,” she told her friends, “You guys want to join us?”

          “I can’t,” Honey said regretfully, “Brian and I are trying to finalize our honeymoon plans, we have a date with the laptop and Orbitz.”

          “How about you, Di?” Dan asked, swinging a sweaty arm around her shoulders and grinning at her, “Jenni’s in White Plains, visiting her folks this weekend, wanna be my date?”

          Trixie, turning from handing the score sheets off to the League secretary, caught sight of Diana’s face and saw as clearly as if the other woman had spoken, that she was in love with Dan. _Oh hell_ , she thought, _this is a pickle_. She cast about for a distraction, hoping no one else—namely Dan—had any idea. Diana met her eyes just then and Trixie watched as she flinched then gave her a pleading look. _I won’t tell_ , Trixie thought fiercely, and smiled reassuringly.

          “Sure,” Di said gamely, if unenthusiastically.

          “You positive?” Trixie asked, trying to give her an out, “A pizza parlor full of screaming kids high on Pepsi and pepperoni is no one’s idea of a good time.”

          “No, really,” Di said with heavy emphasis, “I’m fine.”

          “Maybe Bri and I can order a pizza,” Honey mused, “I was going to cook, but now I want one of their Mediterranean pies. They have the best garlic knots, don’t you think, Dan?” She prattled on about pizza for several minutes, and Di and Trixie shared a look. Clearly Honey had figured it out too, and was trying to distract everyone with her usual social grace.

          They managed to clear the field and confirm with the parents that they were all going to the pizza parlor on Main before Trixie, Diana and Dan piled into his Jeep to ride to the packed restaurant. Trixie picked at her slice, appetite having fled in the face of Di’s quiet dignity, Dan’s cluelessness, and the raucous behavior of the team. She was going to Liam’s later for dinner anyway, so she finally abandoned her food and went to play video games with the Jackson twins. Di had made it clear that she was fine, and Trixie didn’t want to hover.

          Two hours later she waved to her friends as they dropped her off at her house before she hurried into the house to shower, eager to see her boyfriend. Time enough for her to talk to Diana about her feelings for Dan later; if she wanted to, that is. Freshly showered, Trixie blotted her hair with the towel and ran a dab of leave-in conditioner and gel through it and left it to air dry. The house she rented had been built before central air, and she had to rely on window units and fans. She cranked her oscillating fan and the window unit in the bedroom from low to high and sprawled naked on the bed to text Liam. He had insisted he was cooking for her, but she felt like she should bring _something_.

          After dressing in loose camo print cargo capris and a light yellow halter-neck top, Trixie stepped into a pair of wedge-heeled sandals, slipped on a couple of bangle bracelets Di had brought her from Bali, and grabbed her purse, phone and keys. Her phone rang, and she activated the in-dash phone system and started her Subaru, “Hey Mart, what’s up, bro?”

          “Is this a bad time? I hear your engine running.”

          “Nope, I’ve got you on speaker…hands free, fire away. I’m just going to stop by the store for dessert, and then I’m on my way to Liam’s. He’s making me dinner.”

          “He must have it bad, if he’s willing to cook for you.” Mart teased.

          She laughed, “You know he has it bad the day he’s willing to eat something cooked by _me_!”

          “Oh, you’re not so bad, Moms taught you pretty well.”

          “Despite all my efforts to avoid learning how to cook, she didn’t do too badly,” Trixie agreed. “At least I haven’t starved yet. How’s Justin?”

          She could hear Mart’s smile, “He’s doing better. We’ve been going to see a grief counselor, and I think it helps him.”

          “Oh, I’m so glad! And how are _you_?”

          “I’m keeping my head above water. This parenting thing is hard when it’s full time. I want to call Moms and Dad every day and ask for advice.” Mart sighed, “They’ve been great, and so have Dave and Evie…although they aren’t exactly thrilled that I got custody.”

          “Have they been giving you problems?”

          “No…but, well, they keep inviting Justin to stay for a week at a time, and I really want to spend as much time with him as I can so we can bond better. But at the same time, I feel terrible for saying no. They _are_ his grandparents, they’re grieving Julie too. And when we move to Sleepyside they’re going to see even less of him.”

          “You can’t please everyone,” Trixie reminded him gently, “You have to do what’s right for Justin, and for you. But maybe you can let him stay with them for a bit longer, since he’ll be moving soon.”

          “You’re probably right.” Mart sighed, “Anyhow, I wanted to ask you…Moms and Dad insist that I can have any of the furniture and stuff that I want, but are you sure you don’t want more? I mean, I’m getting the Farm, I feel bad for taking so much.”

          She laughed, and picked the call back up on her cell, hopping out in front of the bakery, “You’re making all of us happy, now that Beldens will still be living on the old homestead. Besides, it’s not like you’re getting it for free, Daddy is still selling it to you. I’ve taken all I want so feel free to the rest, as far as I’m concerned.”

          They chatted for a few minutes more before they hung up, and Trixie wandered through Crimper’s bakery looking for dessert. Everything looked too indulgent and mindful of her bridesmaid’s dress and all the work she and Liam had done with their early morning runs she finally went to the grocery next door and bought a pint of strawberries and a container of Cool Whip. A display of summer and dessert wines caught her eye and she ended up with a bottle of strawberry dessert wine and a container of chocolate dust for the rims of the glasses. She didn’t like wine, but she did like dessert, maybe this stuff would be sweet despite itself.

          Rolling down the windows and turning up the radio, she sang along as she drove out of town on Glen Road. The sun was lower in the sky, and the temperature wasn’t quite so scorching, and Trixie inhaled deeply the fresh green smell of the Preserve, the slightly stagnant wind off the Hudson, the mid-summer air. She felt happy and carefree, like she was a teenager again, and when she arrived at the Manor House she ran eagerly up the stairs to Liam’s two-bedroom apartment over the garage. He answered almost immediately, and they stood in the doorway kissing until they heard, “Get a room!” and turned to see Tom grinning at them as he walked from the house toward the trailer where he, Celia and Mei lived.

          Liam pulled her inside, laughing, and backed her up against the door. “Hello,” he murmured, sweeping aside her hair and kissing her neck.

          Trixie shivered, and gripped his biceps, digging in her fingers when he lightly bit her earlobe. “Hi…”

          “You’re early.” He kissed her again, and she sucked on his lower lip and then gave him a smile from behind lowered lashes.

          “Why yes I am. Do you mind?”

          “Not at all.” He stepped back at last, and smiled at her, “You look beautiful, and not at all like you spent several hours in the sun yelling at first graders.”

          She laughed and followed him into the galley kitchen, setting her reusable grocery bag down on the small table in the dining nook as she passed. “Some of them are second graders and I don’t do _all_ the yelling,” She grinned, “Dan and I take turns.” She peered around him as he stirred a pot of baked beans, “I had a shower and cooled off before I headed over. It was a scorcher out there. I can’t imagine how hot it will be out at the fairgrounds Monday. Mmm, whatcha making?”

          “I slow cooked a couple racks of ribs in the oven, and I’ve got deviled eggs and salad in the fridge. I’m just warming the beans now.”

          “Yum! Are you sure I can’t do anything to help?”

          “Why don’t you slice that French bread?” He nodded at a paper -wrapped loaf on the counter, “I’ve put butter out to soften.” He made a face, “Shouldn’t take long in this heat.”

          “At least the Wheeler’s sprang for central air in here!” Trixie hunted around for a bread knife and cutting board, and began to cut the loaf. “My place is just on the verge of being cool enough. August is always tough. My electric bill goes sky high.”

          “You probably need better insulation,” Liam remarked, pulling plates out of the cupboard, “That place is, what, eighty years old?”

          “Mm, yeah, but Mrs. Lambino is on a restricted income, I can’t ask her to pay for that.”

          He set the table, and pulled the ribs out of the oven and started pulling food from the fridge. “I’ve got Ranch, Bleu Cheese and some kind of fancy vinaigrette.”

          “Ranch, please!” Trixie put the bread in a bowl and took it and the butter dish to the table. “I’ll get drinks, what’ll you have?”

          “There’s a pitcher of iced tea in there, and a jug of store bought lemonade, or I have beer and cola. I’ll take iced tea.” Liam held up her bag, “What’s this?”

          She poured them both iced tea in tall glasses full of cracked ice, “I brought a little dessert and some wine.”

          “I thought I told you not to bother, this was all on me? Oh ho, fresh strawberries…that’s better than the boxed brownies I made.”

          “We can have both,” Trixie assured him with a grin, “chocolate and strawberries go great together.”

          They sat down to eat, chatting about their week. Liam asked after the game, and Trixie gave him the highlights. “It wasn’t the best game the team ever played, but it wasn’t the worst either.” She waved away more bread, “No, I don’t want to get stuffed, I’d rather have more ribs and another deviled egg.” She checked to make sure that she hadn’t gotten any sauce on herself, and wiped her face liberally with the napkin after she took a bite of rib meat. “Mart called me on my way to the store, he’s stressing a little about the move and the implications for Justin, and I think he feels guilty that he’s going to be living at the Farm.”

          “It’s the obvious choice, he used to dream of being a farmer, and it isn’t a viable situation for you or for Brian and Honey.” Liam wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb, grinning, “Missed some.”

          “Ugh, I am such a slob,” Red faced, Trixie snatched up her napkin and patted her face, “Did I get it all?”

          “There was only a tiny bit,” he assured her, and leaned in for a soft kiss, “I don’t expect you to be spotless while eating barbeque, Trixie.”

          “No one who knows me would expect that,” she grimaced.

          “I’m not exactly clean myself,” he pointed out, and indeed he had a smear of barbeque sauce on his chin, and his hands were even messier than hers.

          “It looks better on you,” Trixie said, batting her lashes, “Very manly and erotic in a meaty sort of way.”

          Choking on the bite he had just taken, he pounded on his chest and washed it down with tea. “You say the most unexpected and weird things. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

          Trixie’s heart fluttered, but she was determined not to make a big deal out of it. It wasn’t like he said he loved her, just things about her. _Too soon_ , she reminded herself, _too soon for I love you_. “My oddness is part of my charm.”

          “That it is.” He sat back in his chair, “I’m too full to even think about dessert. You get enough?”

          “Too much,” she groaned, standing and beginning to clear the table. After a brief, friendly argument she triumphed and they cleaned up together. Food put away and dishes loaded in the small dish washer, they refilled their drinks and Liam led the way to the small balcony off the dining nook. The sun hadn’t quite set and there was a breeze blowing, keeping the mosquitoes mostly at bay. He lit two fat citronella candles and sat in the other deck chair. Reaching for her hand he smiled, green eyes dark as emeralds in the darkening light. “Thank you for spending the evening with me. It’s been a busy week for both of us and I was missing you.”

          “No need to thank me, it’s my pleasure.” She leaned her head back against the chair, “I missed you, too. It’s going to be one packed weekend, and I’m glad we found some time alone together.” They sat for a while in silence, watching the light from the sinking sun slowly leaching from the sky, revealing the new moon emerging from behind scudding clouds. The pitch of the locusts in the trees reached a crescendo, and in the distance they could hear a dog barking. In the hollow, Reddy answered.

          Trixie laughed, “Old boy still feels territorial.” She leaned forward in her chair, “Oh look, you can just see the house through the trees. It looks so tiny. Hard to believe my parents raised four kids in there.”

          “And assorted Bob-Whites at various times,” Liam pointed out. “It’s good that Justin will be able to grow up there, it might be the best thing for him, after losing his mom. Just to get out of his apartment with the memories everywhere, and build new ones. But in a place that’s familiar, full of family things.”

          “Moms is thrilled, although I think she’s really struggling with the reality of moving to Florida. I’m going to miss them terribly, but I want them to be happy.”

          “It’s not that far,” Liam pointed out gently, squeezing her hand, “You can always fly down and visit them for a weekend. Maybe we can go sometime for a little vacation? I’ve never been out of New York, aside from crossing into New Jersey, and except for that buying trip to Minnesota for Matt years ago, and a trip to the Poconos with Joan.”

          “I’ve been really, really lucky to get to travel to so many places, but I’ve never been to Florida. I’d love to go with you.”

          “It’s a date then,” He rattled the melting ice in his empty glass, “Want to go inside? The mosquitoes are getting worse.”

          They blew out the candles and took their glasses inside. “I’m too full for dessert,” Trixie said, rinsing her glass. “It’s there if we want it.” Liam came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Mm, you smell like ribs.” He nuzzled her neck, tickling Trixie and surprising a giggle out of her. “You like that, do you?” She asked flirtatiously, turning her head to kiss him.

          “I do, I really, really do,” he assured her in a husky voice, just before he kissed her. His big hands smoothed up her waist, cupped her breasts and she gasped softly. “Okay?”

          Trixie nodded, momentarily wordless, and turned in his embrace. As their kiss grew more intense, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she had had the foresight to wear a matching bra and panty set. Tonight felt different, as if Liam had released a hold over himself, and she sensed he was ready to take her to bed. She was more than ready, and just wished she had put her toothbrush in her purse, since it looked like she might be staying the night.

 

******

 

          “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity,” Honey complained gently, fanning herself with her clutch. Despite the muggy day, with temperatures in the mid-eighties and the oppressive sense of heat that was descending so soon in the day, she looked crisp and tidy as always. Trixie envied her friend’s pristine white t-shirt, tailored khaki shorts and glowing white leather Keds; her cropped hair was mostly hidden by a straw hat but not a hair was out of place. Her enameled American flag pin was perfectly upright on her shirt, which was not marred by so much as a drop of sweat, and the only sign she was too warm was the lazily fanning clutch and the heightened pink glow in her cheeks.

          “It could be worse,” Di offered lamely, “Remember our junior year? It was killer, at least two of the other cheerleaders on the varsity squad fainted during the parade.” She had bundled her hair under a red bandana and wore a dark blue romper and silver Sketchers with white ankle socks. She was carrying her Chinese parasol again, and Trixie wished she had had the foresight to bring shade with her.

          While Trixie was technically off-duty, as part of the municipal government she was expected to make an appearance at city and county functions as much as possible. She was wildly grateful not to be in uniform like the patrol officers, or even in jeans and a Sleepyside Police Department t-shirt on such a hot day. Her Old Navy American Flag t-shirt and star printed denim shorts were clean, decent and appropriate. Her low-top Converse sneakers, one red, one blue, were slightly less adult looking, but she figured it was a holiday and what the hell? She’d pulled her ponytail through the back of the dark blue and white Penn State Nittany Lions baseball cap she’d had since college, and stopped now to readjust her hair, looping the end of the ponytail up so it wasn’t touching her neck. Criminy it was hot.

          “So,” Honey said suddenly, dropping her voice to a discrete murmur, “I saw you leaving Liam’s early yesterday morning.”

          Di, who had drifted away to say hello to an elderly neighbor, whipped her head back around; clearly she had stellar hearing. She excused herself and rejoined them, “What what what? Did you two finally…?”

          “Not that it is any of your business, Nosy Parker, but yes. We did finally…” Trixie trailed off deliberately, and raised a pointed brow.

          “And?” Diana demanded, “How was it?”

          “Di!” Honey scolded, “You can’t ask Trix a question like that. Not even if we are her _best friends_ and we’re dying of curiosity.”

          Snorting, Trixie grinned at them, “I will say that it was _welllll_ worth the wait, and that’s all you’re going to get out of me. I’m a gentleman.”

          “Oh pooh,” was Di’s inelegant retort.

          Honey was beaming, “Oh, I’m so glad everything was, you know, good.” She sighed dreamily, “It’s so wonderful to be in love with someone and to finally get to be with them.”

          “Slow your roll, sunshine,” Trixie cautioned her, “We haven’t exchanged I love you yet.”

          Honey’s hazel eyes were wide, “Oh, Trix, I’m sorry—“

          She patted her best friend’s arm, “Don’t be. This isn’t a tragedy; we’re serious about one another, we just aren’t there yet.”

          Di was silent, craning her neck to see if the parade had started. Honey and Trixie shared a look, and Honey bit her lip, recalling too late that Di was in love but most assuredly not in bliss with the man of her dreams. Trixie was grateful that Dan hadn’t shown up yet, they needed to get on a more neutral topic before the guys joined them.

          “How’s the job going?” Not the smoothest change of subject, but Trixie wasn’t very smooth.

          “Well, you know, it’s a job, but it’s going pretty good. I like getting to help guests find things to do and recommending sites and restaurants and things to them. But a lot of it is standing around bored too.” Di flicked her bangs out of her eyes, “I’m thinking I might move out, get my own place. The twins are a bit much, and I got used to a certain amount of privacy and quiet time while I was traveling. Plus, Mommy keeps trying to rope me into committee meetings and charity lunches and Harrison looks disapproving every time I sleep in.”

          “Where are you thinking about looking?” Honey didn’t get the answer to her question until sometime later, as Brian, Dan and Jim joined them just then, and then the parade started shortly after. Once the street was clear and the crowd began to disperse, they made plans to caravan out to the fairgrounds. “We need to hurry and find a good spot for our picnic,” Honey called, “before all the shady spots under the trees are taken.”

          Trixie and Di rode with Dan and Jim, and Trixie texted Liam to let him know they were headed out to the fairgrounds and promised to let him know where they spread their blankets. They had parted ways early the morning before and even though it had only been a little more than twenty four hours, she found herself missing him. Brian was too cautious and conscientious a driver to beat them there and Dan had already parked his Jeep before Brian’s Honda was even in sight. Dan and Jim told the girls to go on and find a space and they would come behind with the ice chests. Trixie grabbed her backpack and the insulated collapsible lunch tote she had packed with food, and Di, equally burdened, blazed a trail through the crowds, using her superior height to scout for a prime spot.

          “There!” She pointed and took off across the bumpy ground, headed for a leafy sycamore tree. They hurried to spread out blankets and towels and text everyone where they could be found. Before long they were joined by their friends, and cold drinks were passed around. “We can wait for Liam before we eat,” Honey said, “but I’m so thirsty. I hope none of the elderly residents pass out in this heat.”

          “The city set up a lot of EZ-ups with Igloos of water, all around the grounds, and there are two First Aid Stations,” Brian said, “but we should keep an eye out. A lot of people don’t realize they have heat stroke because they aren’t sweating.”

          “The Lion’s Club is supposed to have an ice cream stand set up,” Dan offered, “Ice cream, frozen yogurt and lots of popsicles.”

          “I could use a popsicle right now,” Jim chuckled, plucking at the neck of his shirt and fanning himself, “It’s a hot one today. I’m tempted to go jump in the stock tanks.”

          “Not me,” Diana told him, nose wrinkled, “They’re sure to be full of slime and germs. But Rosalie told me the Inn is sponsoring a misting station by the food court, you could always go there.”

          “Oh, Di, you never did say, where are you thinking of looking for a place?” Honey blotted her neck with a folded handkerchief and rolled her frosty bottle of root beer over her cheeks.

          “Are you moving?” Jim asked in surprise. “You just moved back!”

          She smiled, “Just thinking about moving to a place in town.”

          “You could move in with me,” Dan offered, bumping her arm lightly with his fist, “I’m going to be all alone in that two bedroom when Brian and Honey get married. Of course, you’d have to wait until September, not sure how soon you were planning on moving out.”

          Her smile gave nothing away, “That’s sweet, Dan, but won’t you want to be alone with Jenni? What if you two decide to move in together?”

          He looked alarmed, “Whoa, whoa, hold on there. I really like Jenni, but that’s moving _too_ fast.”

          The others laughed at him, and he pretended to get offended, “What? I do like her; I’ve never felt so serious about a woman before. But moving in together? That’s something that should happen after months and months, probably years. We don’t know each other well enough for that.”

          Jim laughed at his friend, “Just don’t wait decades,” he joked, “Otherwise she might get tired of waiting and you’ll find yourself alone in that apartment forever.”

          “With this gorgeous mug?” Dan asked in exaggeration, “Naw!”

 

******

 

          Trixie stood in the scanty shade afforded by the overhanging awning of a corndog stand. After a lengthy lunch, they had all sprawled drowsily in the shade for more than an hour, letting their food digest and the worst heat of the day pass. Honey and Diana had elected to go check out the small selection of crafts for sale—all proceeds to benefit local charities—while Dan and Jim wanted to try out the shooting gallery. Liam had helped Brian move the ice chests back to the vehicles, an activity greatly improved by the large wheeled cart Liam had in his truck. She was waiting on her boyfriend now, as they wanted to go see which rides weren’t completely crowded with kids.

          Jostled by the hordes of people passing through, standing in line and wandering about, Trixie reflected that it would be a poor time for a zombie outbreak. “We’d all be dead meat, for sure,” she chuckled to herself.

          Someone slammed into her back and she oofed as the high counter of the stand dug into her abdomen. Shaking her head she turned to chastise the person who had knocked into her, but didn’t see anyone there. Suddenly she went straight as an arrow, senses on alert. That smell…that strange, chemical-fish smell Travis had mentioned. She could smell that now! Looking around at the people in line she demanded to know if any of them had seen who hit her. Most of them looked back at her, puzzled or indifferent, but one elderly lady clutching a fistful of tickets peered at her through Coke bottle lenses. “It was a young black fella,” she said in a voice as thin and scratchy as lace.

          “Where did he go?” Trixie tried to keep her voice calm, but she wanted to be off, chasing after what might be a lead after so damned long. She forced a smile, “Did you see which direction he went?”

          The woman seemed uncertain, her head shaking slightly, either in denial, or from palsy. A youngish guy who looked vaguely familiar leaned around the woman, “I think he went off toward the port-o-johns, officer,” he suggested, pointing.

“What was he wearing?” A shrug, “Dunno, jeans and a t-shirt I guess?” She threw a thank you back over her shoulder and darted into the crowd, cursing the time wasted.

 

******

 

          “Nothing,” Jenni said glumly, two weeks later, “not one damn thing to move this case along.”

          “If only I had found the guy that bumped me,” Trixie moaned, slumped down in her office chair, staring at the ceiling.

          “There were too many people there,” Jenni offered pallid comfort, they had been over this ground ad nauseum, “Most of Sleepyside must have been squeezed in the fairgrounds that day.”

          They sat in a depressed silence. They had closed up most of their other cases, the necessary paperwork was done; the two of them had hashed out what they would say at the meeting of the Rotary Club that they had been invited to speak at the following Friday. Perhaps it was the heat, but the town had been quiet, and they found themselves with time on their hands, time which they had wasted brooding over their failure to identify a suspect in the Quik-Mart robbery, or to link it in any way to the suspected drug smuggling.

          Jenni groaned, “I’m going to go stir-crazy if something doesn’t happen soon.”

 

******

 

          “You shoulda kept your mouth shut,” Trixie said grimly, two hours later. They stood on the verge of a county road, on the outskirts of town, watching the crime scene techs meticulously comb the tall grass for evidence. The medical examiner, shrouded in a Tyvek jumpsuit, Tyvek shoe covers and androgynous behind a tight paper hood and large goggles, stepped carefully out onto the crumbling blacktop. “Well, Detectives, that young man is most definitely dead and I would venture to say he did not walk himself out into the woods and shoot himself in the back of the head.”

          “The caller said they thought it might be a hunting accident or a suicide,” Trixie remarked in annoyance, then reminded herself that the average person wasn’t going to be all too calm and collected after finding a most unexpected dead body while bird watching.

          “To the untrained eye you might think that,” The ME allowed, “There is a real problem with poaching around here, as I know you’re aware. But he was in street clothes, he didn’t bleed out on the scene, and while there was a hand gun near his right hand, I’d say from gross examination that the angle was too far back to have been done by the vic. It’s possible the person who shot him was trying to make it look like a suicide and he moved. I’ll know more once we get him in the morgue.”

          “Thanks Donna,” Trixie said absently. They stood in silence as the ME made her way to her van, and watched as the gurney bearing the body of Killian Tubbs was maneuvered out of the tall grass and brambles. Jenni looked down at the evidence bag bearing Tubb’s wallet. “This sure makes me think we were on the right track for the robbery, even if he had an alibi.”

          “As soon as they get back to us with confirmation of his prints, we’ll call on the family.” They both dreaded the coming meeting with the family; criminal past or not, robbery suspect or choirboy, no cop ever looked forward to informing a family that someone they loved has left this earth. Especially not if it was violent.

          “Shit.”

 

******

 

          Long hours later, Trixie lay in the bath, the water cooling around her. A crushing headache had gripped her for hours, her neck was stiff from stress and pain, and she felt like crying. Maybe one day she would be tougher, more hardened, and days like this would roll off of her. Perhaps in time she wouldn’t get stomach cramps when she knocked on the door of someone’s home, come to tell them their son was dead. In the future she could become so inured to death and bloodshed and crying toddlers clutching at their grandma’s housecoats that she wouldn’t go into the station ladies room and throw up bile.

          “Please don’t ever make me callous,” Trixie whispered, blinking back tears, “Let me do this job with dignity and humanity, but please, let it not feel so raw.”

          She had never been so grateful to live alone, there was no way she could manage conversation right now. All she wanted was to dry off and crawl into her bed. There was no one to appear strong in front of, no one to present a front of objective professionalism to. All Trixie would have to do would be to call or text and any of her family or friends would be there. Liam would come to her in a heartbeat; none of them would think the worse of her for crying. Knowing it was only human was one thing, feeling that as a young woman in a male-dominated precinct she had an image to uphold was another.

          “Never let ‘em see you sweat,” Sheila had advised her when she was first assigned to her as a partner. “These guys will have your six if you earn it. But as modern as they may be, none of them will really understand it if you cry. They might cry in private, they might throw up, but you cry one time and they’re forever after going to think you’re weak. It’s not fair, Belden, but its life.”

          “That’s life,” Trixie said dully, pulling the stopper and hauling herself to her feet. She felt like an ancient woman, and despite the heat of the day she started shaking, and fumbled to pull a towel around her. She just needed to sleep; she’d feel better after a night of sleep. Please God let her feel better.


End file.
